The Thief and the Flower
by Mastermind4892
Summary: "Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine. Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine." Fortune-hunter and adventure-seeking Flynn Rider will show Rapunzel the joyous wonders and mysteries of the world, and how to be her own person. In turn, the Maiden of the Golden Flower will teach him the value of home, family and what lies in your heart. [Pseudo-Novelization]
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _"For every star, a story there is."_

\- Master Yoda

 **Every story has an ending, but for every ending, there is a beginning.**

Since the first spark of creation, in the blinding darkness of the ancient and distant past, there was only chaos.

Forces of great and unfathomable power raged across the world; incomprehensible in scope and apocalyptic in their destruction. It was nothing less than a never-ending series of calamities, lasting longer than a living soul could remember. Though back and forth the tides went, no end was in sight. Nothing but madness and desolation. Any mortal that might witness such unthinkable devastation could only describe it as if it were a war between gods, lost in an endless red fog of blood, smoke and wrath. Screams, fire, blood and death. Never was there anything else. Even when the world was young and mankind barely learned its first words, it seemed that the end of times had come early to end our brief existence.

Mighty and terrifying prehistoric creatures roamed the world unchecked. Plains shattered. Oceans burned. Mountains melted. Forests froze. Skies turned black. Lands far and wide were ravaged beyond recognition. Screams, fire, blood and death—never was there anything else. Unspeakable actions and atrocities committed and countless lives lost every day. Mankind and their mortal comrades could only watch helplessly from the sidelines in horror as the chaos reigned supreme with no sign of ever slowing. For generations, every newborn child's first memory was of their home on fire.

It felt like there was no hope. No escape and no end. But one day, it finally did end. Even then amongst the chaotic ruin wrought by such devastation, it was not too late for our world. Fate and fortune had not forsaken mankind. For the earth lies between the Heavens and the Pit. And neither could anticipate what would come to protect it.

It was said that drawn to the devastation were the ancient gods, celestial beings and cosmic entities bound by olden and ageless laws to preserve order and balance. Fearing the destruction of the world and its innocent inhabitants would result if things continued, the ancient gods finally acted. The events that unfolded after were beyond any mortal's ability to describe or chronicle.

A titanic force of elemental power descended upon the world, swift and overwhelming. Like a sudden tidal wave washing across the land, the devastation was swiftly ended. Like a meteor obliterating a passing cloud, the apocalyptic forces were chased away to never be heard from again. Thus a dark age of calamity was brought to an end within mortal time. At long last, the long night had finally ended.

 **~o~O~o~**

However, while the time of cataclysm had ended, the scars remained. The world was left with gaping wounds and harsh scars upon its peoples. Lands were desolate and tainted beyond hope of providing food, water or home. Angry storms raged over the great oceans, creating terrible turbulence unfit for life above or below the waves. Rivers and lakes were polluted. Animals were rabid and wild, monsters of all shape, size and prowess now spread among them. Worst of all, dozens upon dozens of races had been lost or doomed to a lingering decline into extinction. Mankind was still scattered and lost, aimless and hurt, angry and violent as they poised for their own wars to start. The world was poised to descend back into chaos.

But the ancient gods had not abandoned the world to its fate. The magic of nature always provided for itself. All that lived under the sun was always cared for, and thus the sun itself would provide their salvation. Precious drops of pure sunlight fell from the sky, falling to the desecrated lands where needed most. Where these drops fell magical Golden Flowers grew in their place. These mystical flowers possessed among the purest and most benevolent forms of all magic, harmoniously attuned to the still beating heart of the world. With the ability to cure the sick, heal the injured, and breathe new life and hope into the ruined and razed, the Golden Flowers had the power to mend the world. To make the clock reverse, heal what had been hurt, change the fate's design and save what had been lost.

As their magic seeped outwards, life slowly returned to the land. The blackened earth turned green with grass. Trees grew tall from the ash as flowers opened their petals to the sun. Rain washed the oil and blood away, the rivers and waterfalls flowing blue and clear once more. Once unfruitful land now bore crops, and animals thrived as new children of the mortal races were born. Souls were soothed, wounds healed, tears dried and smiles were made once more. Spirit and energy was restored as villages rose where once there were none, turning into cities and then into kingdoms. People danced, sang and laughed together under the rejuvenating magic of the Golden Flowers. All who knew of the plants' powers knew they must be protected and cherished. If any new Golden Flower was ever found, its blessing was to be shared in honor of the life it gave back to the world. Where a flower was found, prosperity was soon to follow. Thus the peoples would always be content, healthy and safe in the presence of the flowers' divine light.

Even the oceans recovered, for the Golden Flowers were not limited to the land and air alone. Beneath the waves they bloomed, ridding the waters of the contamination washed down by the rains and calming the storms above. The once churning waters became calm once more, the currents moving with serenity once more in the fathoms below. Fish and all manner of sea life returned as coral and sea plant bloomed in an explosion of life. The secretive but joyful merfolk, one of the few surviving tribes of the Aquarion race, built their own beautiful kingdoms under the sea. One such kingdom was founded by a young merman named Atlantus, who discovered an ancient weapon at the bottom of the sea. It was the Trident, a weapon of terrible and mighty command over the waters, winter and lightning, but in his hands its destructive ability was turned towards constructive potential, bringing the flourishing kingdom of Atlantica into being. Under the careful direction of the Atlantican kings and queens the trident's powers were repurposed for life rather than death, leading Atlantica to grow with vitality equal to any kingdom on shore. Thus did the people of the sea flourish once more, the trident hidden away where the hands of man could not grasp it.

However, not all was reborn in gladness and light. Far to the east emerged a collection of fearful human nations. While others of the world embraced the magic of the Golden Flowers, they rejected it. They considered any form of magic, no matter how pure or benign, to be unnatural and blasphemous. They branded these miraculous plants as such, and so destroyed every Golden Flower they came across. Only a few of these precious flowers survived, creating a scant number of oases as the rest of the east festered and deteriorated. The land grew sick and contaminated, and its inhabitants turned foul, selfish and cruel. Horizon after horizon was cleared of Golden Flowers, until the easterners found themselves isolated from the bountiful west by a savage and merciless desert. Thus was born the Devil's Steppe, and the eastern and western kingdoms were forever separated from each other by its endless blistering sands.

Though mankind was divided on their beliefs towards the flowers, their value was nonetheless indispensable to the world. They were a gift of nature, one of the scarce few forms of magic as pure as an angel's smile. Though small and frail they healed the world to its un-ravaged state, making its inhabitants happy and prosperous. The world was finally theirs now to enjoy and nurture, as it was always meant to be.

In the passing tens of millennia the memory of the dark time of chaos faded into obscurity, and with it went the Golden Flowers. Their purpose done, they gave their last magic to the earth and disappeared. Even so, the one Golden Flower born from the very first drop of sunlight remained should its life-giving magic ever be needed again. All else eventually became lost, ancient unknown relics of an old and frightening bad dream scarcely found in any text or tale. Only the most ancient and wisest of beings still knew of the era that came to be called the Lost Age, a period for which no definitive history existed. These beings became the Eternals, existences far above the reach of mortals yet never descending to within their grasp or divulging the truth of the forgotten past. Any inkling the mortal world may have remembered of this era was only found in the oldest of books and records, forgotten in the deepest corners of libraries and archives to do nothing but collect dust as they slowly crumbled to join it.

Sadly, the magic of the last Golden Flower was not forgotten. It fell into the hands of one of humanity's more ignoble members. An old woman named Gothel stumbled across the last flower purely by accident. Recognizing the magic from the old tales, she remembered the song claimed to make the Golden Flower work its miraculous magic. On a whim she sang, marveling mere moments later at her restored vitality and youth. Delighted at her rejuvenated life, she reveled at distancing herself from what had been her close approaching end.

But the Golden Flowers were meant to save life, never extend it. To Gothel's shock she discovered the flower's magic could only keep her young for so long, requiring her to continually visit and replenish herself. Fearing what would happen should the flower be discovered, Gothel kept its existence and blessed power secret instead of sharing its blessed gift with those around her. She greedily used it to keep herself forever young and beautiful as her fellow humans aged and passed on. In subtle ways, the Old Religion of the Lost Age sneered and growled at this greedy act of sacrilege. The Golden Flower was amongst the purest and most benevolent of magics, meant only to soothe suffering and heal pain. There were people and families across the realm that needed the magic for far greater causes than the youth and vanity of one covetous egoistic woman.

Since time immemorial, there had been and always would be only two types of killers. Those who killed with hand, sword, arrows, cannons, armies or whatever weapon they saw fit for taking lives, shedding blood and sowing destruction. And then there were those who killed through influence, the rippling consequences of their actions causing subtle damage that never shed a single drop of blood but no less lethal. The man with water is king in a drought, but the man who refuses a sip to those so parched is no less a murderer than those holding a bloodied knife. Of these two types of killers, Gothel was certainly the latter. Throughout the years she moved, untouched by the ravages of time or illness, thinking herself to be above the needs of others. The starving, the feeble, the weak, the dying—and never once did she lift a finger for them. The flower was HERS, and hers alone. It was to serve her purposes and no one else's. Gothel rarely ever soiled a blade with blood, but her hands were stained red from those she allowed to fall and perish before her eyes. She felt no pity for those who suffered or remorse as she watched them fade away, despite knowing full well she had the capability to avert their fates. Nor did any judgment or punishment ever come down upon her from mortals or deities. For year after year she continued on as those around her were born, lived and died. She continued this way for centuries, drinking from the Golden Flower's power for herself alone as she sang.

 _"Flower gleam and glow,_

 _Let your power shine,_

 _Make the clock reverse,_

 _Bring back what once was mine,_

 _Heal what has been hurt,_

 _Change the fate's design,_

 _Save what has been lost,_

 _Bring back what once was mine,_

 _What once was mine."_

Thus, for more than five centuries Gothel, sustaining her life, beauty, and conceited pride, abused the gift of the sun. The forgotten ways of the Old Religion cried out at such a wondrous blessing being secreted from those who needed it, only healing a single woman's blackening heart and fueling her narcissism.

 **~o~O~o~**

Though Gothel remained outside the flow of time, the rest of the world continued to grow with it. Not far from the Golden Flower, a small town blossomed into a magnificent kingdom. Small yet prosperous, it was a thriving society best known to many other kingdoms as an agricultural paradise. The farmland was lush and fertile, abundantly rich in its bountiful harvests. Succulent fruits, lush vegetables and thick wheat sprouted from the ground in waving oceans of gold. Grocers sold their freshly grown produce along the cobblestone streets as far as the eye could see, the radiant sun and earth providing harvests almost year round. Apples, oranges and peaches large as cannonballs and sweeter than candy, ripe tomatoes taut with flavor, celery and potatoes and other vegetables were sought out by people from near and far. The harvested wheat from the fields made exceptional breads fit for a king, and the smell of bakeries at work was rarely absent from the air.

The name of this kingdom was Corona.

Corona single-handedly produced more high-quality food than any other land, making them well sought for trade and never leaving Corona wanting for gold and wealth. When many perceptive merchants and traders tried to find out what Corona's secret ingredient or technique was to grow such great food, they were surprised when the Corona citizens freely opened their doors and showed that there was no secret method involved. The land was simply so fertile that even the most novice of farmers could grow food deserving of the tables of lords and counts. Of course, the imagination of the curious was never satisfied, and some outside rumors had it that magic fairies from a land in the stars came in the night to nourish and tend to the fields of Corona. How else could a nation produce such perfect crops in such marvelous abundance?

They would be shocked to learn there was more truth to their rumors of the supernatural than they believed. Although Gothel's selfish desires kept the Golden Flower's more direct and potent properties hidden from the world, its life-giving presence had not diminished with the millennia. Its proximity to Corona was more than enough to spread its magic to them, still seeping into the land as well as the spirits and happiness of the kingdom's people.

As the first monarchs came and went, Corona became more prosperous than ever. Friendly to all outsiders and bustling with commerce, the kingdom was close to many other nations and monarchies. Some of the most prominent stood out as the Alliance of Four Kingdoms, both the Southern and Western Isles, and even Weaseltown—ahem, _Weselton_. One of their closest partners in particular was the northern kingdom of Arendelle. The 'Jewel of the North' was the only domain that surpassed even Corona in trade, although Corona was still the better when it came to culinary exports. Having been friends for many generations, their relationship grew ever stronger when the Crown Prince Frederic of Corona and the Princess Arianna of Arendelle fell deeply in love. After their engagement was blessed by King Adgar, himself intending to marry a lovely noble named Iduna from another land, Corona soon had a new beloved queen and the trade relations between Corona and Arendelle ascended to a new degree of trade and booming fortune that had not been seen for decades. Both kingdoms, bound together through both market and marriage, experienced a flourishing golden age of prosperity.

For years, all in Corona blossomed under the kindness and wisdom of their King Frederic and Queen Arianna. But the kingdom's fate became imperiled when they began to try for a baby. A year passed with no child. Then another. And then another. Six years came and went, yet no child came of it. New rumors spread that the new queen was barren. But the king and queen never lost heart. While they were indeed concerned for their kingdom's future, they still loved each other and wanted a child of their own more than anything else in the world, be it a daughter or son. And so they kept trying, but the fates did not see fit to grant them their heartfelt desire. Then, just as their hope began to wane, their patience and faith was rewarded. Queen Arianna became pregnant with a child. Naturally the entire kingdom rejoiced at the news, and the celebration lasted for days.

 **~o~O~o~**

But happiness was to remain elusive. A mere month away before the baby was due, Queen Arianna fell deathly ill. Her skin turned bone pale, an unnatural sight for someone so tanned in the sunny kingdom. Her vitality began to slip, her breathing shallow and the simple act of opening her eyes required great effort, to say nothing of the strain it caused her just to eat and drink. All she could do was hold weakly to her beloved husband's hand, the warmth giving her some small comfort as her impending end grew close. They had been so close to having their child, only for their chance at a family to be snatched from them.

But King Frederic refused to allow it. He was the ruler of one of the most successful and thriving kingdoms in the Western Lands. He would move mountains with his bare hands if he had to if it meant saving his wife and their unborn child. He sent for the best healers in the kingdom and beyond, offering fortunes upon fortunes for anyone who could save his family. Doctors and physicians came from across the lands, answering the call for help from far and wide. They tried everything they could, from new treatments and the best medicine known to man to olden remedies seldom remembered. Even the strange and unknown "elixirs" sent from King Eric and Queen Ariel of Seahaven, who claimed to have received them from the queen's mysteriously unknown father, had no effect. Whatever illness possessed the queen, it seemed there was no cure.

With each day King Frederic turned more depressed and desperate than ever in his life. He could not bear the sight much less the thought of his wife and unborn child wasting away before him. Even with the crown atop his head, he was powerless. His prayers went unanswered and his pleas to the gods ignored.

One fateful night, King Frederic had found himself all but ransacking the royal archives, frantically searching every book for a solution to his wife's illness in the chance something that had been overlooked. Books were strewn everywhere. Stacks of them teetered on the floor and on the table. Throughout the room, various volumes lay open—whether to mark a particular passage or simple carelessness, it was impossible to say. But after what seemed like weeks, he came across an old leather-bound book covered with dust in the furthest recesses of the archives, an old storybook. Upon opening it and coming to a particular entry, he suddenly felt more awake than he had in weeks. The story told of a magical flower with golden petals that could heal any injury and cure any illness. He immediately knew that if there was anything in the world that could help, it was this mysterious flower. Though he realized it was likely the errand of a foolish and desperate man clutching at fictional fairy tales for answers, he had to try. The best doctors said that his wife had only three days. There was no doubt that the only thing that could save his wife and child was a miracle.

A massive search was organized, where all guards and staff were to search the vast forest for any trace of the mysterious magic Golden Flower. To King Frederic's surprise, dozens and dozens of volunteers from the citizens stepped forward to aid in the search to save their beloved queen, and they were not turned away. Boats delivered everyone across the forest in the dead of night, for not a single precious hour could be wasted. No effort was spared, every tree was shaken and no stone was left unturned.

Whether by destiny, fortune or some mysterious force watching from afar, just when the people were about to abandon any hope of ever retrieving the object of their queen's salvation and declare it a fool's errand, a cry suddenly echoed from one of the search parties that changed the future of Corona forever.

 _"We found it!_ "

They had done the impossible. Down on a tiny crevice by the shoreline among several bushes laid the Golden Flower. A glorious hope and excitement filled the people as they immediately seized the magical flower, an excitement only felt when having accomplished the impossible.

The cry went out and the precious flower was rushed back to the palace. No time was wasted as the petals of the last Golden Flower on the earth were stirred and mixed into a thick broth, which King Frederic gave to his dying wife without hesitation. The effect was immediate. A warm wave of radiant gold was seen washing under the queen's skin from her lips across her body down to the tips of her toes. King Frederic and company may indeed have been expecting a miracle to take effect, but the speed of the queen's recovery from deathly pale to perfect health within seconds was nonetheless extraordinary. Her skin returned to its natural hue and life rushed back into her green eyes. Arianna smiled again at her husband, but then gasped in surprise when she felt something in her stomach. The baby had kicked. Their child was alright! With tears in their eyes, the king and queen embraced each other in their arms tightly, and the joyous news spread across the kingdom faster than a racing horse.

Then the kingdom received another surprise the following night when the queen suddenly went into labor, even though the baby wasn't due for another few weeks. Though they were concerned at first, the delivery went perfectly and the baby, revealed to be a girl, was born in perfect health. Their only surprise was that the girl was not crying, but instead… laughing with joy, as she looked at the world all around her. When the king and queen looked into her doleful green eyes, her smile only grew wider, and they could not help but smile back in return as they placed her in the cradle they had fashioned for her months ago. After so many years, they finally had a child.

However, Frederic and Arianna received yet another surprise the next morning when they looked into their daughter's cradle. Somehow, over the course of the night, their newborn daughter had completely grown a full gown of golden hair! But how was it even possible? Infants rarely grew any hair on their heads until at least a month or two after birth. While it wasn't exactly unusual for some to start growing hair early, it was certainly unheard of for the baby to grow hair _overnight_ that already completely went down the length of her entire little body, from head to toe! It only concerned them more when they realized that the lush golden color of hair was not a natural trait that they, the dark-haired parents, possessed.

But before they could worry themselves further, their baby girl sleepily opened her green eyes and their worries vanished. Like their eyes were opened, the connections clicked together perfectly as they remembered the stories. The Golden Flower was said to be born from the golden essence of the sun itself. And now here before them was breathing proof that the legends were true. The Golden Flower had healed the mother and delivered a perfectly healthy child who only smiled and laughed with joy and happiness. And now the blossoming golden locks of hair were actually the mark left by the flower, a mark that symbolized the miracle that had saved her and given her new life. Truly, the gods had blessed them and given them a beautiful child.

The child looked up to behold the spinning insignia of the golden Corona sun above her, before looking over to the sight of two tall, well-dressed, dark haired people looking upon her with the deepest affections of pure and cherished love.

The parents chuckled with loving adoration as Arianna reached into the cradle to scoop up her daughter and hold her closely. The king himself brought out a small crown that they knew their new daughter would one day wear with pride, and gently placed it upon her small head. The child squealed with laughter as it slipped down over the side of head, the crown being only slightly too large for her. One day though, they hoped she would fit the crown perfectly.

Sharing one last smile with one another, Frederic and Arianna carried their child out onto the palace balcony, where the people of Corona waited with anticipation.

"Good people of Corona!" the king proclaimed. "The gods have blessed us! On this day, we are proud to present to you our newborn daughter and princess of Corona, who we have chosen to name in honor of the miracle golden flower that delivered her to us all… RAPUNZEL!"

The entire kingdom erupted in explosive cheers and applause at the news. At long last, the throne had an heir!

"Gods be praised!"

"Bless our souls!"

"She's beautiful!"

"The gods truly smile upon us!"

"Long live Corona!"

"Long live the princess!"

"LONG LIVE THE PRINCESS OF CORONA!"

After the surge of cheers and applause had stilled, the king and queen still had one last act to perform to celebrate their daughter's birth. To further honor the legend of the Golden Flower dropped from the sun for all it had given them, they took a candle and lit a flying paper lantern and lifted into the sky towards both the heavens and the sun.

For seven days and seven nights, everywhere that one could look there was the enchanting spirit of joy surrounding everything that made one want to laugh with cheer. As songs filled the air, there was life in everyone's eyes and joy in their smiles as they danced to angelic music. The people of Corona put their overabundance of food to exemplary use. All of the streets were filled with the most wonderful smells. Rich peppermint hot cocoa, creamy cinnamon rolls, ripe custard pie and milky chocolate truffles imported from Arendelle filled with salty caramel. There was simply no other sensation in the world like that which allows one to experience happiness through all five senses. For an entire week, there was no kingdom in the world happier than Corona.

But none in the kingdom were happier than the king and queen as they cuddled their new daughter, Rapunzel. For the entire week, everything was perfect and everyone was happy.

Except for one.

 **~o~O~o~**

Gothel was not happy at all—she was infuriated beyond words. How _dare_ they steal her flower! _Her_ flower! She was the one who found it all those centuries ago! It was meant for her and no one else! Its magic was her property! Curse them all to the deepest circles of the Pit where the demons would chew on their bones!

But there was nothing Gothel could do against dozens of palace guards as she watched them take _her_ flower. But she had also assumed that the king and queen would try to use its magic in the same method she always had, and her anger was replaced by terror when she heard they had made it into a broth! Whether it was because the queen's condition was that desperate or they simply did not know the magical song, it did not matter. Her flower had not just been taken—it was _DESTROYED!_ They had ruined her!

To Gothel's horror, she felt her youth and beauty already fading away, even though she had taken a fresh "dose" less than an hour before _her_ flower was stolen. It had to be because the source of the magic keeping her alive was gone. At the rate her hair was turning grey and her skin was becoming wrinkled, she had no more than a few days before she would be wasted to dust.

However, she remembered one other lesson from what she had read about the Lost Age. _Magic is a constant and vital part of the world, thus it can never be created or destroyed, only transformed._ If magic was constant that would mean only the flower had been destroyed. The power itself must have gone somewhere!

And when Gothel heard that the newborn princess had somehow been born with lush golden hair, she knew _exactly_ where it had gone.

Sneaking into the kingdom and taking advantage of the lax nature of palace guards, who had not been involved in a single war since the kingdom's founding, as well as those still inebriated from the festival's activities, she infiltrated the palace with ease and located the royal bedroom. The king and queen were still fast asleep, equally exhausted from the joys of the festival. Then she espied the cradle and peered inside at the helpless sleeping child.

 _"Flower gleam and glow… "_

Gothel could not suppress a wickedly excited grin as the infant princess' hair began to shine with a familiar golden light that held the warmth of the sun. The laws of magic had held true against her fears. Even with the flower gone its gift lived on in the child. _Her_ flower's gift.

 _"Let your power shine…"_

She grasped a single lock of hair, eyes alight with greed as she felt the familiar rush of golden magic flow into her and wash away the years. Her skin lost its wrinkles. Her hair regained its black hue. Angular bony protrusions were replaced by feminine curves. She raised a pair of scissors, opening the blades around the luminous strands. This would do perfectly. Just one lock of hair and she would have her immortality back, forever free from the flowing waters of time. And this time no one— **NO ONE** would steal her magic ever again!

 _"Make the clock reverse… bring back_ —AH!?"

Gothel's glee ended with the snip of her scissors. The very instant the golden lock of hair had been cut, it suddenly lost its magical light and color before her eyes, withering to a dark brown. Gothel looked at her hand as she felt the magic flowing out of her, the fair fingers turning bony as her skin wrinkled and paled. She felt her skin drawing against her bones, her body atrophying with age. As Gothel looked in shock, she also watched as the rest of the strands of hair on the babe's head she had cut also turned plain brown.

Gothel scowled angrily at the still sleeping baby, the scissors shaking in her hand. She opened her mouth to sing once more, hoping a second attempt would garner a more permanent reaction for her to harvest. But intelligence stopped her voice before she could utter a word. Of course the magic would not remain. If you plucked a petal from a flower it would eventually wither and die. Pluck that flower from the earth and it would only linger. This girl was no different. It was clear that simply cutting a lock of hair to take with her was not going to work.

She would have to _take_ the child itself.

The unthinkable immorality of stealing an innocent helpless babe from the warm cradle of its family never once occurred to Gothel. The only hesitation she had at first was the knowledge of what would come. The kingdom would not take this idly. They would bear their full effort in hunting for their princess, and bringing the kidnapper to justice. No doubt the king and queen would ensure it with the fury of parents defending their family. But all it took was a single glance at her aging, decrepit skin and that was enough for Gothel to banish such fears. They would never find her. No one had for centuries.

She stowed her scissors, craggy hands reaching into the cradle. She would still leave with her fountain of youth. She just would not be leaving alone.

Few sounds can galvanize a parent to action more than the cry of their child in distress. And for King Frederic and Queen Arianna of Corona, barely into their new lives as mother and father, would be haunted for years when they were awoken by the terrified cries of their baby. That and the sight of their daughter clutched in the hands of a gnarled old woman garbed in a cloak of midnight black, two bulging hateful eyes glaring at them before she dropped off the balcony and into the night.

The peace of Corona's night had never been broken so dramatically or abruptly as the palace bells sent up a clamor that roused every soul within the kingdom. The flower's miracle had been stolen!

The news spread like wildfire, the light from lit windows growing like a blaze in dry grass. With the newfound passion and wrath of a mother bear protecting her cub, the king and queen raced to the stables for their horses, yelling that no effort to be spared in the hunt. They had tried for a family for so long, and their efforts had dangled them over the brink of tragedy before the flower had pulled them back and blessed them with happiness. And now, just when fate had answered their prayers, this vile woman had come and taken it from them! Distraught they were, but despondent they were not. They would ride alone into the fiery depths of the Pit if it meant retrieving their daughter.

Fortunately for the royals, they were not alone in the sentiment. Every knight, soldier, servant, noble, peasant and child was awoken and galvanized to action at the distressing news. Just as with the flower, countless dressed in only their nightgowns and slippers fervently stepped forward to help search for the vile child thief. Horses were saddled and sent speeding across the kingdom, the gates locked firmly behind the search parties as they poured out in a swarm of torches and lanterns. As the countryside was combed the palace and town were swept from the highest rafter to the lowest sewer. No shadow was left unlit, no alley unexplored, and no trail untrod. Their search was as tireless as it was vast, trekking to the very edges of the kingdom with incredible speed and thoroughness.

But for all their passion and desire to see the princess returned to her parents, it was not enough. Even with the gates barred, the bridges watched, the boats tethered, the stables locked and both guards and citizens keeping vigilant watch as the town and countryside were turned upside down, the thief managed to slip through their fingers. The princess and her captor vanished into the night without so much as a footprint.

 **~o~O~o~**

When the sun rose the next morning, it brought no light of hope to the land it so blessedly shone upon. For the first time in generations a thick somber fog rolled in from the seas, settling over Corona like a dense damp blanket of despair. Colors were dulled, the air thick and the people less amicable or hospitable than they always were. Everyone moved slowly as they went about their daily lives without spirit or vigor. Conversation was held in hushed whispers and fires and lanterns burned with mute warmth and light. The animals were silent. Food had no taste and there was no light to be found in anyone's eyes.

None were more heartbroken than the king and queen. Nothing could hurt a parent more than to have their child taken away from them, but for them it had come in its cruelest form. In some ways it might have been less wrenching if they never had their child. They tried for so many years to be blessed with a baby but to no avail. Still, as despairing as the thought of never having a family was to them, they had slowly become more and more accepting of their fate as many couples had forced to concede to as well. At least then their heartbreak would have gone no further. Instead they did have a child and their hopes were lifted to dizzying heights. A child whose happy green eyes they had looked into and seen joy beyond measure. A child who laugh reached their ears like the finest of music. A child they had held in their arms with more love than they ever knew was possible. Even after the magical flower that blessed them with this small miracle, they had held their greatest form of happiness in their hands only for it to be taken from them. Losing a child is an unspeakable experience that no parent should ever live through.

The search for Rapunzel and the old woman marched on, neither the rulers nor common folk of Corona willing to concede defeat. But as days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, the fires that once burned so brightly in their hearts waned and then died with their hope. No matter how far or carefully they searched, no trace of Rapunzel or the thief emerged. Though no one dared utter the truth, it was well known to all. They had lost.

A year came and went, every day laden with the sadness of that single night. On the night of what would have been the princess' first birthday the king and queen released a single paper lantern into the heavens, just as they had done on that once joyous day. Once again, the kingdom showed their deepest and heartfelt support by releasing lanterns of their own into the starry night sky along with their monarchs. Everyone offered their prayers and dreams into the lanterns in the hopes that the gods would hear their appeals and light the way for the Lost Princess to find her way home.

A shadow of sorrow fell over Corona. For years the kingdom followed its sacred tradition of releasing lanterns into the sky on the night of the princess' birthday. But as the years passed like drifting sand the king and queen fell further into their despair, for every year the lanterns failed to guide their daughter home. Their fragile hearts weighed heavy with their sadness, not able to bear their sorrow much longer. Their desire to rule atrophied, more and more of their duties falling to advisors and nobility who did their best to fill in. None had the heart, courage or words to attempt to revitalize their leaders.

But as if fate was not done with them, it soon became apparent that the Golden Flower had done more than give their kingdom a child. The kingdom's need of an heir went beyond the ache in their hearts. The magical plant had once been a source of life and happiness, blessing the kingdom with a radiant light that raised spirits and crops in turn. But with the kidnapping of the princess and with her the magic of the golden flower, that light began to flicker. The crops grew with less vigor and yield. Commerce slowed. The kingdom began creeping towards collapse. It was so slow as to be near imperceptible, but the decline was there. If left on its path Corona would come to the verge of ruin—not from war or famine or plague, but a dearth of spirit and trade. Above commerce and leadership, above strength and conquest, what Corona needed most was hope. Therein lay their salvation.

Or perhaps salvation is in the simpler things that mankind had long forgotten. Things that would be found in the most unlikely sources, when hope can emerge from where you would never expect it. The tragic shadow of sorrow and misfortune that had befallen the beloved kingdom of Corona would not see their salvation brought by the sword of a proud knight in shining armor, the wise knowledge of a powerful sorcerer, or the gallant efforts of a commoner thrust into extraordinary circumstance.

Instead, the promise of deliverance would come from a legendary thief.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Greetings, one and all! I welcome you to my story, and hope you enjoy every word.**

 **The brand new Tangled Tv Series, and 'Before Ever After' has me so excited and invigorated! Although at the same time, it forced me to move up my timetable for publishing this story.**

 **Disney is entering a new age, and Frozen is but one example. That story has many more to tell, but I was saddened that there are not as many for it's sister film Tangled. As I became revitalized by the magic of Disney and learned to see all the marvelous wonders in life, I looked at Tangled in a whole new way. I wondered what mysteries there were to Rapunzel's magic and a deeper mystery behind the origin of the Golden Flower. Furthermore, I felt that Flynn/Eugene's character is slightly underrated, and as a fan of Han Solo and Captain Jack Sparrow, I understand his full potential. Through my inspiration, I decided to step up to the plate to answer those questions and tell the story of Tangled at it's full potential. A whole new level of depth and insight into the characters of Flynn and Rapunzel! Therefore, I have endeavored to write the** ** _BEST_** **Tangled novelization ever made on Fanfiction, and it is a promise I intend to uphold to the best of my ability. I offer you nothing less!**

 **One more thing. I offer my deepest thanks and appreciation to my close friend, DarkDragonFires12. I enjoyed your own works and our wonderful discussions so much that I was inspired to do the same. None of what comes next would be possible without you, my friend. And now, after over a year of musing and preparation, I have written my own story as well to stand beside yours. That's right everyone, this story of Tangled will run in tandem, of the same 'story-verse', with the works of DarkDragonFires12's Little Mermaid story of "Darkest Tide." Don't worry everyone, it only runs in parallel and 90% of this story is based entirely on Tangled.**

 **And so the story of Tangled begins once more! Fortunes to be had, an adventure to live, new horizons to explore and true love to be found! Tangled awaits!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Disney franchise, nor the Tangled films or the TV series. Everything original you will see, however, is mine.**


	2. There's A Party Here in WeaselTown

**There's a Party Here in WeaselTown**

 _"Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence."_

– Helen Keller

The common man.

Since time immemorial, many have wondered about the true secret of success for how the common man could live his life. Every man, woman and child all held goals and wishes. It was the indelible nature of man to live well and content, and more often than not, to aspire to reach for something greater than themselves. There was always an abundance of surprises and opportunities for one to seize in the journey of their dream, to guide their hearts and let fate decide the lives they saw.

Such was the world humanity now lived in, a world filled with color and hope. It held delightful animals, with brightly colored birds that sang a hopeful song at the breaking dawn and majestic horses that charged across the wild plains as free as the wind. There were countless wonders and treasures to behold, whether from the roaring waterfalls in the Arendelle Mountains to the sparkling waters of the vast Seven Seas that shined under the moonlight. The world brought wonder, hope, joy and dreams to all. There were nights where the stars that could be seen as clear as crystal, so inviting in their promise of flight and freedom, made one's spirit soar and imagine the impossible. The world had a defiant grandeur about it, as if its regal beauty and the terrible forces of nature were challenging man to conquer it in pursuit of the horizon and the mysteries therein.

What lies beyond the horizon?

What's on the other side of the sky?

 _Go and find out._

This was the thirst of man. A burning desire that awakened in the heart to go further than any had ever gone; to sail the greatest ocean in a grand ship with billowing sails or to climb the highest mountain peak to reach for the clouds, and to uncover sights and places no other had found. Many ancient spirits and Eternals that had walked the earth for eons would claim that humanity was too curious for its own short-lived good, too aggressive and adversarial. But in truth, it was actually a competition with life itself. However it may appear to others never truly mattered. What was truly important about the nature of man was that it was linear. Every time a man made a venture or endeavor in life, a hundred different things could happen next. But the point was that you never knew what would happen. You try to anticipate, set a plan for all the possibilities as best as you can, but in the end it all comes down to taking one step after another and to see what happens. With each new step, the journey in life begins to take shape and you never knew what that shape was until it was completed. In fact, life would not be worth undertaking if you knew what was going to happen.

The simplicity of this truth would baffle many, mortal and otherwise. Mankind _valued_ its ignorance of what was to come. It was the unknown that defined their existence. Humanity constantly kept searching, not just for answers to their questions, but to find _new_ questions. They were a species of explorers. They explored their lives, day by day, and they explored the world to expand the boundaries of their knowledge.

Many could live the lives they always wished for, taking steps into a wonderful future. With peace across the lands, man always could reach for greatness and surpass it.

And our story begins with one such individual who recognized and understood this wisdom, and cherished the freedom it gave. A man that appreciated that it was the freedom to choose how to live his life that made him human, and never allowed anyone to tell him otherwise. Someone who thirsted for treasure and adventure, to seek out the greatest thrills and live every excitement in life to the fullest!

Provided that he survived his encounter in the upper-district of Weaseltown- _ahem_ , Weselton, with a particularly angry shopkeeper.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _CRASH!_

"Get back here with my boots!"

 _'Okay, maybe I should have waited until_ after _he closed. I never do the obvious thing!'_

Flynn Rider, boots in hand, quickly dashed up the stairs three steps at a time with the upset shopkeeper trying to catch up.

Reaching the top and rounding the corner, Flynn slipped through the first door he saw. It was an attic room filled with extra wool, silk and fabrics needed to stock the tailor shop below. Not breaking his stride, he rolled underneath the sewing table in the center of the room before righting back onto his feet with barely a falter in his step. His sharp eyes swept over the room in under a second looking for an escape before settling on the open window in the upper rafters.

The window was high up out of the thief's reach. Stacking fabrics and silk would make a rather unstable tower to climb, which was _not_ an appealing thought. But knowing he only had about fourteen seconds before the angry fella could catch up, he doubted he had the time to arrange enough of the room's furniture to climb up.

BANG!

 _'Okay, FAST angry fella.'_

The irate shopkeeper burst into the attic, red in the face as his maroon longcoat. Now that he could get a closer look, Flynn could see that the man was actually a _big_ fast angry fella. It was a surprise that he was able to fit through the door, let alone be able to sew threads so delicately with those giant hands of his.

"Can't pay the price like an honest man, so you resort to stealing?!" he bellowed.

If anything, Flynn looked offended. "Five hundred gold coins for a pair of footwear? Now _that's_ robbery!"

The shopkeeper bared his teeth and puffed out his chest, which somehow made him even larger. "This is my shop! I can make my wares whatever the hell kind of price I like!"

Glancing at the sewing table between them and the man's broad shoulders, Flynn got a sneaky idea before he remarked "And in a just world, I might agree with you. But this is not a just world, this is _Weselton_."

The shopkeeper snapped. "You're a dead man!"

The shopkeeper's arms swung for the thief, only for Flynn to casually lean out of reach as the man was cut off when he bumped hard into the wide table and knocking several delicate items off.

"Whoa! Step lightly there, my friend. You might hurt yourself."

A vein pulsed in the frustrated man's forehead as he roared and then lunged forward to climb over the table to get at the smart-mouth… which was exactly what Flynn wanted him to do. Moving swiftly, he leapt onto the table when the large man came forward, then leapt _on_ the man's shoulders to get a boost up and then out through the window!

"Wait, what the- HEY!"

Flynn expertly slid down the tile roof, wrapped his hand around the prominently hanging ' _Perfect Fit- We'll Sew You Up Good!_ ' advertisement sign and swung down to the cobblestone street.

"Thanks for the business!" he called back as he took off into the crowd.

If anyone had looked up towards the attic window, they would have seen the angry shopkeeper who was tall enough to reach the window as he tightly gripped the window sill.

"STOP THAT M-"

 _Thunk!_

The window had abruptly dropped shut and closed… on his hands. The sound of his yelp of pain was muted by the closed window. To any onlooker, it would look like an angry man soundlessly shouting expletives behind the glass like an idiot.

Then he disappeared from the window altogether in a manner that suggested that the table underneath him had collapsed under his weight.

 _'I did_ _warn him that he might hurt himself.'_

As Flynn ran through the streets of Weselton with his latest spoils of victory in hand, he felt his heart practically humming with adrenaline and thrilling exhilaration. The rush of the evening air was most invigorating to his jubilant spirit and he couldn't help but laugh with pure excitement!

 _'This is the life! Going someplace dangerous, stealing something expensive and mocking the bad guys…'_

He reveled in the adventure that was his life. Being able to see new lands, reaching for treasures no one else dared, answering to no man and never knowing what other surprises would be waiting for him just around the corner! Ah, the raw stink of possibility and adventure! Letting his heart dance, outsmarting knights and kings, and the delight of getting away with it!

And the _prizes_ that fell into his hands! Truly magnificent spoils and rewards from such a daring life to be had! It was the purest example of the wise old term, 'Fortune favors the bold!'

Flynn Rider was not a common pickpocket or street urchin. He was something entirely different. An ordinary thief would slink away into the shadows full of fear. That prospect was _boring_. But if you strode away with your spoils while bursting with song _proudly_ , then what you are is a legend!

Flynn's thirst for extraordinary adventure and the promise of riches had first awoken twelve years ago shortly after his ninth birthday. He had been born in the kingdom of Strihaven, or at least as far as he could remember, and was raised in an orphanage. Back then, he had a different name. _Eugene Fitzherbert._ (He always swallowed uncomfortably at the thought of _that_ name). While he never knew his parents, the orphanage's caretakers were kind and looked after him and the other kids. He had always been the one to laugh loudest and worked hard to make the other children smile. Every child had a different story and it wasn't long before he had become a natural charmer with others. Everyone felt at ease around him and found themselves being open and straightforward with him. And whenever he grew excited, everyone around him felt it too with a sense of growing anticipation, as if something grand was approaching.

That sense of eagerness all started on the day that the nine-year old orphan came across a book that changed his life forever, the story of a legend who inspired him to become the man he was today. ' _The Tales of Flynnigan Rider_.' The boy was captivated from the very first words of the book.

 _Many generations ago, far away to the west, lived a great man of fortune and adventure. A man unlike any that came before. An exemplar of great courage and bold exploits that had many times changed the course of history. Until one fateful day when he vanished from the world without a trace and his name became legend. That name was Flynnigan Rider._

The words were so profound and inspiring in their story of a great man; he spent many late nights with a candle as he reread the stories of the great Rider over and over again. It was the tale of a man who never stopped dreaming of adventure and setting out to live one every day throughout his lifetime, so immaculately adorned in fortune as an individual of distinction. In his vast travels, he had fought pirates, tangled with ancient sorcerers, vanquished monsters and challenged myths. There was nothing he couldn't do, nowhere that he couldn't go. He never considered anything to be unfeasible, especially after he had done it himself. He spoke of the impossible and made it _real_. The world was his to grasp, and he never stopped reaching.

 _Do you have the courage, the will to excel in all that you do?_ the book had asked.

And when the young boy read the tales of such marvelous adventures to the other children, the sparkling twinkle of dreams and wonder dancing in their eyes awoke something inside him. Something incredible.

 _A life unlived is no different than death. But as a well-spent day brings a happy sleep, so a life well-used brings a happy end. A life without regret is a life well-lived. Feel the limitless freedom in the air that surrounds us as your inner self yearns to break free and become a part of it. The sun piercing through the skies, a thunder cloud roaring to be heard and an unstoppable wind that cannot be contained as it rushes for the endless horizon. Harness that very spirit, and there is nothing you cannot do._

At that moment, he understood what the book meant, what the legend was trying to tell him.

 _A journey of a lifetime is a journey no one else will travel and no else can judge; a path of happiness and hurt, where the challenges are great and the rewards even greater…_

That was when a new Flynn Rider was born. He knew he would never truly be able to replace the great Flynnigan Rider, but he could still proudly take up the mantle and become just like the man his idol was. Strangely enough, the very moment he had decided upon this course in life, he suddenly staggered and felt lightheaded like an unseen breeze swept past him. It was like a wave of something powerful and liberating washed over him. He felt different, as if something deep inside him had been changed forever like a river joining with another. Everything around him seemed brighter and it filled him with an excitement he had never known before. It suddenly felt as though the world was open before him, both as a welcome and a challenge.

And he would start right at his home in Strihaven.

Even when he was only six years old, three years before he first found the book that changed everything for him, he always noticed how the orphanage caretakers always immediately quieted their discussions when either he or one of the other children entered the room, and when they resumed in hushed whispers behind held hands when they thought they couldn't hear. But even at that young age, he had very sharp hearing. For once, that was not a good thing. Combined with his notice of the poor amounts of food, the tattered blankets, windows covered in grime and many other things that no one ever got around to fixing, his suspicions had been confirmed.

The orphanage was running out of money.

Strihaven was by no means a poor or impoverished kingdom of ill fortune. As a member of the renowned Alliance, Strihaven had prospered steadily. However, the monarch of the realm, King Willard of Strihaven, also known as the 'Fox King', was not known for compassion or generosity towards the common people either. Moreover, the orphanage of Flynn's upbringing resided in one of the kingdom's more overlooked and insolvent regions, which left a disturbing number of families in the streets. More children kept pouring into the orphanage, and while most of the caretakers promised to look after anyone that came under their wing, they did not have the coin to provide for them all. As time stretched on, the children grew thin and dressed in rags.

What broke Flynn's heart just as much was the crestfallen look in the blue eyes of Astella, the founder and lead caretaker of the orphanage and the legal guardian of all its children. Just standing in front of her gave everyone a sense of calm and motherly comfort, a kind presence that made you feel as though you were falling asleep, warm and loved, feeling utterly safe. Not to mention that, despite how much trouble Flynn got into with the other caretakers, Astella was the only one who could always put him in his place with just the look in her eyes that never failed to give a cold shiver of anxiety. It was too much for even _his_ sly nature.

But the twinkle in her eyes was fading, along with most of the color in her hair from stress and despair. While she still always put on her usual soothing face with full upturned lips to keep everyone assured that everything would be fine, the young boy could see through it. Her smile didn't reach as high anymore and her skin no longer held her pure rosy hue. There was worry, anxiety, and fear in Astella's fragile eyes. The boy saw that she didn't know what to do anymore, and neither did he.

One night, the young Flynn grew too hungry to sit still anymore. He slipped outside into the night in the desperate hope of finding some food to fill his growling belly. He didn't care if he had to look on the ground or even in the garbage. Then he came across a food stand in the marketplace. Even though he had no money, the sight of such fresh and ripe food was too much for him to resist, and his tummy agreed. Holding his breath as quietly as possible, he approached the stand without the merchant even knowing he was there. Quick as a fox, he swiped two apples and a loaf of bread and then ran as fast as he could. Nothing had ever tasted so _delicious_ before!

But when he sneaked back into the orphanage, he saw once again how hungry everyone was while he had filled his belly. At that moment, he knew that he had to keep trying. He needed more food, not just for himself anymore but for everyone else. The very next night, he slipped out once again and went to work. He soon learned that he was easily ignored or passed. Most grown-ups never even noticed him, and he used it to his advantage. Night after night, once everyone was asleep, he would sneak out and return several hours later after being painstakingly careful to lift food without being seen. He brought back cheese, milk, bread, fruit and sometimes a little corned beef.

Of course he didn't _tell_ anyone! The young boy was well aware that his means of feeding everyone was less than legal and had no intention of getting anyone else involved. Rather clever for his young age, he always made sure to leave the food in a sack by the front door, easy to be found as if left by an anonymous donor. As Astella and everyone else could finally start eating well again, some of the more faithful caretakers believed that there was a guardian angel watching over them and the children. The young boy couldn't help but flush bright red at the indirect praise, feeling his heart glow at being thought of in such an adoring manner by bringing food to them.

It wasn't long before he became much more versed in the art of his craft. At his young age, he couldn't do any work that would get him nearly as much money as a grown-up would. Smart and clever, he knew that if he was ever caught, it would mean more than just himself being punished as everyone back at the orphanage could be implicated as well. And just as important, he would no longer be able to help provide food for them. Therefore, the young boy understood that discretion was paramount in this work. Being a young and small child worked much in his favor, as few paid any attention to simple street urchins.

Regardless, he had too much depending on him to rely entirely on the chance that no one would look twice. He could not afford to make even a single mistake. Failure to not be seen would show him no mercy or sympathy, nor would it be considerate or fair. He had to learn to walk the streets freely; seen, but unseen. To blend in and become invisible. So he dedicated himself to practicing what he could do with the determination that only a child could possess.

Soon enough, he had realized that while everyone was eating healthy again and carefully rationing the food to great effect, it still wasn't enough. The orphanage was still in a terrible state of disrepair. The other children still wore patched rags, huddled around candles to keep warm, slept in torn blankets and weak beds. Worst of all, some of them were in need of medicine. Such things could only be taken care of with money.

This was something he handled far more delicately. While he quickly picked up the craft of pickpocketing easily enough and turned out to be quite the natural for it, he had to choose his 'marks' carefully. After seeing how much Astella and the children suffered from having nothing, he wasn't proud of taking from others. He remembered how cold and hungry he had felt, and refused to make anyone else experience such hardship, especially with the difficult lifestyle most people had to live with in his district of Strihaven. It was much simpler whenever he went for food since he took extremely little, as no one would notice a single missing apple or two slices of cheese gone missing from a single stand. It was why he spent more than a few hours during his late-night adventures, since he collected a cumulative amount from multiple food markets all over the kingdom. But for money, he only lifted from fat merchants that were well-off or the occasional noble, both of whom could easily afford the loss of a single purse of gold coins and their lives would go on with hardly a hiccup in their finances.

As time moved on, he was soon old enough to walk out in broad daylight, though not until _after_ a lengthy process of convincing Astella that he could take care of himself without a chaperone! But since he was now without the more innocent and inconspicuous appearance of a young child, the prospective thief went through a complete revision of his ability to hide and blend in. Despite his growing developments, his build still worked to his advantage. He was tall, but neither thin nor thick and he could now adjust his height by several hand-spans depending on how he carried himself.

He quickly learned that posture was everything. His sharp eyes had noticed the distinction between the proud bearing of a noble man and the subdued posture of a simple peasant. He took this observation to heart, teaching himself about his shoulders and hips, the size of his stride and the vigor of moving his arms, how to hold his head and how to merge into a crowd and change without anyone noticing. He practiced by transforming from the appearance of an orphan to a mere apprentice on an errand to a sickly boy with no money— all in the same day without even changing his clothes. The pinnacle of his self-testing came when he walked right through the personal space of a well-dressed noble, and the man didn't even glance his way!

Still, he intended to take himself even further, as the words of Flynnigan Rider pushed him on.

 _A single-minded man who sees only his goal and nothing else is never truly able to live his life. You must not only have your goal in mind, but also an awareness of the world around you. You must see not only the path to your goal, but also opportunity and danger. Your senses are the key. Sight is not the only sense you can use out in the world. The ground beneath your boots, the smell on the breeze coming your way and even the manner of the wind picking up the tails of your coat can tell you of your surroundings. Rely on all of your senses equally and the world will reveal all of itself to you._

As Flynn pondered this lesson one night during practice about focused sense and hidden truths, it suddenly felt as though a part of his mind _woke up_ and he was aware of _everything_. His senses took in everything around him, soaking in sights, sounds, scents. He was aware of the heavy steps from a nearby patrol of guards, exhausted from the day's events as they complained about their captain's drinking problem. He was aware of a small nest of birds above, chirping happily as their mother brought dinner. He was aware of the fresh steam in the air from a nearby blacksmith finishing his latest work. He was aware of the wind's current, there would be a storm tonight and the orphans would need their blankets. It was unlike anything he experienced before as all his senses seemed stronger than ever, melded together like a fuse. Overjoyed and taking it as a sign that he was on the right path, he dedicated himself to exercising his senses in entirely new ways. Weeks that turned into months of such practice and honed experience had left behind nothing but polished instincts and a rather unique sixth sense that become practically autonomous, acting like an _inner hawk_ watching through his eyes that looked out for him and picked up on even the slightest hint of danger.

However, _puberty_ soon provided the thief with yet another prospective trial. His frame seemed determined to avoid the plain yet peculiar gangliness of most boys his age. Instead, his skin had turned fair with a natural creamy tan, thick wavy locks of hair as rich as stirred chocolate, a naturally chiseled jaw and cheekbones and honey brown eyes. Whatever other developments he went through, he started attracting the attention of almost anything feminine that happened to catch sight of him. Many girls watched him, giggling and smirking at him from behind their hands.

A natural charmer already, he took great joy in exploring relations with the fairer sex. His warm and enticing voice, along with how he soon proved himself a master wordsmith when it came to charm, never failed to make a girl melt. An alluring wink that tantalized the senses and offered a promise of sweet delight, his smooth disarming smile where the whites of his perfect teeth always seemed to sparkle. The young thief's charm and handsome looks always turned them to butter in his arms, blushing and breathing heavily.

By the time the prospective thief was in the prime of his teenage years, his efforts for the orphanage bore fruit. They had food, medicine and money in their pockets again. He had taken only a few amounts at a time during his capers, but they added up over time with Astella's careful management of the gifts from their 'guardian angel'. The gold he swiped from the pockets of nobles was especially bountiful for them. But Flynn's yearning for excitement could not be restrained. He didn't want to be confined to the realm of Strihaven, he knew there was no future for him there.

 _A life without regret is a life well-lived._

More of Flynnigan Rider's words came back to him.

 _Put your faith in what you most believe in. When the day finally arrives that you find a way to live that you can truly be proud of, you will be thrust into your own grand adventure. You will find the treasure that makes the adventure of life worth living and fighting for._

Whatever that would be, he knew in his heart that he would never find it in Strihaven.

 _Only the fearless can be truly great; he who is willing to take the first step to face the surprise of the unknown and make the leap of faith. If you want to discover what can make you great, then you must take the helm and chart your own course. Seek the desire of yours that is greater than yourself. Never stop reaching for the day when you can test your true potential and show what you are made of._

That was the dream he wanted more than anything. He could see himself standing out there as an admired man of great renown and great vision, riding atop a majestic white horse while dressed in fine threads suiting his life achievements as a thousand gold coins spilled from his pockets like drops of rain. A hero, an explorer and an adventurer. There was no telling what greatness awaited him out there in the world!

But he still had to leave the orphanage behind, and saying goodbye to Astella was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. He explained as best he could how he was finally ready to go out into the world on his own, and make his own life. His fortune was out there somewhere.

To this day, Rider still had no idea how the woman _knew_ all along that it was him bringing the food and money for all those years. How did she always _know_? While Astella did not exactly approve of theft, she told him that intent was the only thing that mattered, and his actions were not for avarice or gluttony. His entire childhood of thieving was to help others, and knew this would forever define him for the rest of his life. He would never become a depraved or immoral man.

But Astella, bless her heart, still worried for Flynn. While his heart was in the right place, not everyone in the world would see it that way. But he was undeterred, resolute in his dream to seek out his fortune. She warned him that there was always a distinct line between what one wanted and what one needed. To that end, one didn't need a fortune to stride on and be content in life. He understood that sentiment well enough, but in the end it wasn't simply about what he _needed_. Flynn _wanted_ food that wouldn't make him ill. He wanted walls that would keep out the winter winds and summer heat. But more than that, he didn't want to live a stagnant life. He didn't want to spend his days staying in one place, and certainly not a plain ordinary job like a spinster's apprentice or the steward of some random knight. If he did, then he would never be able to go anywhere or do anything meaningful with such a life. Instead, he wanted something that was worth dedicating his life to, something worth fighting to achieve or obtain. He wanted adventures that would give him cherished memories that he would treasure throughout his life.

He could see in his mind's eye a ship surrounded by sea with no land in sight, and without even the possibility of sighting land for days to come that promised the potential of the unknown. To stand at the helm of your destiny. That was what he wanted. He wanted to walk through the royal gardens of Glowerhaven and bask in their aroma. He wanted to taste the best food in the sunny kingdom of Corona, made by cooks using the finest ingredients from all over the world. He wanted the warmth of a smiling, beautiful woman in a cool set of silk sheets, a night of dancing to Seahaven festival music, to stand atop the peak of an Arendelle mountain and feel the summer sun on his face for as long he could. He wanted to climb the highest castle tower, ride the river, gaze up to the stars… and most of all, he wanted to see, do and _have_ something that no one else ever had.

In his eyes, Astella could see a light that she had never seen before. He was a strong bird that was trapped in a cage, yearning to break free and stretch its wings at last, to soar through the sky where it belonged. This was the path his heart wanted, and after some consideration, she touched his shoulder gently and kissed him on the cheek, encouraging him to follow his heart.

But Flynn Rider was not about to leave empty-handed. He may have intended to leave the orphanage behind, but not without ensuring that they would be set for life and no longer have to worry about their future. The orphanage that had taken care of him and he provided for in return had chafed under King Willard's policies long enough. The hawk instincts that now lived permanently in Flynn's mind chirruped in agreement. It was time that the Fox King paid for it… right from his very own treasury.

And what better way to start an adventure than heading off into the sunset with a king's ransom?

Less than thirty-six hours later, the palace alarm had rung out and the news spread like wild fire. Word was all over the kingdom as everyone couldn't stop talking about the story of how a thief had somehow infiltrated the king's palace completely undetected. The main suspect was described as "skilled and extremely attractive." He had made off with three sacks of gold and the king's prized diamond necklace that held at its center a sapphire the size of a man's thumb. Furthermore, if the rumors were to be believed, the thief had also stolen the heart of King Willard's latest wife as well. The foxy king and his guards had barged in on the man escaping out the window of his wife's private room, her cheeks blushed redder than a ripe strawberry and giggling like a schoolgirl.

There was such commotion about the kingdom of Strihaven that no one noticed a large chest filled with gold being delivered to an orphanage. When the head caretaker had asked, the delivery service was in fact part of the crew of a _very_ happy traveling jewel merchant. Apparently, a handsome stranger had offered the jewel merchant a valuable necklace as payment for passage aboard his ship and the rest of his payment to the merchant was to be delivered in gold to a specific orphanage.

 _Every man is born as just a man. But if you make yourself more than a man, if you devote yourself to what you most believe in and never allow anyone to stop you, then what you become is legend._

For the next seven years, word had spread across the kingdoms of a ghost of a thief making off with royal treasures and prizes from a noble's private collection. Other captured criminal elements spoke highly of a striking man calling himself Flynn Rider. Nothing expensive was beyond his reach, no matter how impossibly fortified the treasure was, and he would then slip away into the crowd with a smile. His ability to sneak into the most guarded of treasuries or offices and getting whatever document or jewel he sought was legendary. He always seemed to have the most accurate of information and had a knack on feeling where to go for the next lead when searching the trail of something. Even more impressive, it was exceedingly difficult to get a statement or even an accurate description of the man from the populace. What no one knew was that the thief had subtly distributed much of the wealth he stole to most of the citizens of the kingdoms and nations, not as bribes but gifts. Every potential witness remained tight-lipped, as no one wanted to be the one to turn in such a well-loved figure that gave much-needed gold away to everyone for free. Furthermore, most of the female population remained _especially_ adamant about not sharing anything about the dashing rogue.

Many truly began to believe that the legend of Flynnigan Rider had returned.

Anyone can find strength and skill, if they devote the effort and time to it. A warrior can exercise, an assassin can practice and a sorcerer can study. Training, experience, instinct; these were all important qualities for anyone that when properly honed and polished to shine, one would have the potential to overcome any obstacle. But even these qualities were powerless without one crucial element.

Conviction. Will. Determination.

Without these qualities, no amount of training in the world would make a difference. More importantly, one's conviction is what truly molds their capability. Training shaped your tools and skills, but motivation was what defined yourself as a person. This was what separated Flynn Rider from everyone else and placed his capability high above the rest. While many in the world would practice their skills for the sake of personal gain, true strength of character and conviction does not come from one's self. It comes from others. The right inspiration, like a mother bear fighting to protect her family, allows one to challenge the odds, surpass their limits, and overcome the impossible.

A student without an instructor must shape his own self. Throughout his childhood and self-training, Flynn Rider's only teacher was his drive and motivation was to protect the orphanage that had taken him in and gave him a home. His desire to feed and provide for those he cared for fueled his training to become a master thief. He practiced as a man obsessed. Acting nonstop upon this motivation throughout his self-instruction for almost fifteen years straight gave him a strength and vigor unlike any other, and it affected the core of his training so profoundly that his skills as a thief evolved beyond precedent. It was why he soon became the best thief in all the lands, and was why he was becoming legend.

But alas, there were some lands that would not allow one to rise as Flynn had and would instead shackle the human spirit in chains.

From a distance, the city of Weselton seemed picturesque in appeal. A city bursting to the brim with noble wealth and clerical influence, surrounded by a circle of rolling hills and trees with a wide blue river snaking through the basin. As a major conduit where all forms of trade and finances were conducted, the docks at the bay were a remarkable sight. Ships arrived every hour, practically overflowing with valuable cargo.

Weselton was a central hub for trading imports and exports from numerous regions, and with so much important business and visits from people of major influence, it had quickly grown since its foundation into a city larger than most average kingdoms.

From then on, cobblestone streets stretched for miles everywhere one could look. The city was dense, more so than most kingdoms, buildings were built almost on top of each other; wall to wall and roof to roof. The architecture was grand and extravagant, with rows of houses built closely together, decorated facades, and arches leading to inner courtyards and markets. The streets were chalk full of stands: spices, fruits, weavings, cloth, fish, carpets, breads, fishhooks, everything the mind could imagine. Weselton had an overabundance of merchants trading their wares, to commoner and noble alike. From the way the people chatted, haggled and bantered on the streets, it easily appeared to be the place to live where fortunes were to be made and life went on.

However, under the surface, the truth was far more disconcerting.

The city was enclosed by high stonewalls and ramparts, with high-reaching watchtowers and reinforced gates and long-range cannon bastions leading into the city. The defenses were clearly designed by someone who was paranoid about keeping the city under control and protecting his power.

At the upper class ring, the air was filled with the delightful aroma of a thousand perfumes. The affluence and prosperity of the region shouted out at everyone, from the sprawling estates on either side to the cleanliness of the cobblestone road underfoot. As a conduit for the most influential figures in all the lands, only the true elite of society were permitted to live here. Most composed of either nobles or the most successful of merchants and businessmen that were as rich as royalty. The sweat and blood of the Weselton commoners were all exploited to line the pockets of the wealthy. They reaped all the fruits of the working class and barely left any scraps for them. They were content to sit comfortably in their overly lavish homes, having tea and crumpets and making small talk while the rest of the city struggled to make it through the seasons.

Parents cuddled their bone-thin children on the streets, begging for loose change and scraps while the rich stuffed their faces with fine wine and roasted goose turkey. Many women were forced to turn to 'less-than-dignified' professions for a handful of silver coins while the upper class wore a king's ransom in fine clothing or jewelry around their necks. What little meager savings were earned by the common folk was barely enough to keep bread and water on the table, let alone water to bathe or warm blankets that weren't patched and sewn over many occasions.

The worst of times came when the nobles would throw a ridiculously extravagant party over birthdays, personal holidays or even some nephew's wedding anniversary. The expenses that went into the decorations alone could fund the construction of a hundred residential middle-class houses. No less than thirty carts filled with food and other cooking ingredients would roll into the event, each cart carrying enough food to feed either one noble in a single night or twenty peasant families for a month.

And tomorrow, the Duke of Weselton himself was throwing the largest party in a decade.

Of all the nobles in the city, none were more greedy or conniving than the Duke. His royal sovereign had made him the governor of the city which was the most thriving colony of the kingdom. He was a shrewd politician and never hesitated to use anything to aid his own selfish ambitions. He had a lifetime bad habit of mixing personal gain with more humanitarian goals, flat-out refusing any project or treaty that didn't somehow favor himself. The Duke also never missed a chance to show off his wealth and influence to impress other individuals of authority.

The Duke's ball, his latest project at dazzling others, was to be hosted at his very own mansion with the finest of food, the most exotic dancers and anyone of importance from near and far was invited. Nobility, merchant lords, admirals and rumor persisted amongst the staff that even members of royalty might attend.

Most of the common people had to ration what little food and money they had six months in advance as if they were preparing for a year-long winter. The cost of the party was astronomical and while the Duke still paid for some of the finer and more expensive things (to impress the local lords with his own wealth), he still levied most of the fees to the commoner's debts and taxes to him.

Regardless, many in the city expected that the money spent by the newly-arriving nobles from other lands in local businesses, inns and markets would help shoulder some of their rapidly inflating taxes and dues during the days prior and after the ball. Until then, with the ball only twenty-four hours away, most of the city guard were diverted to the harbor ports to escort the newly arrived dignitaries while the rest were assigned to the Duke's castle. Most of the city grew still in anticipation for the event. Many put on the best clothes they owned and readied their finest wares in preparation for the chance of any wandering nobles or tourists. Still, when the full crescendo of the Duke's ball would reach its peak, most of the important figures would be at his castle and far from the local businesses. No one expected anything else exciting for the next few days.

' _Or so it was it believed,'_ Flynn smiled to himself.

Despite appearances, Flynn was anything but a fool and was in fact as clever and quick-witted as they came. Certainly, not when he had already been in the city for almost a week. With all the different kingdoms and cities he had visited in his adventures, it wasn't until he arrived here in Weselton that he had found a place that was so relentless in taxes, regulations and restrictions over the people. It was as bad as it was for his childhood orphanage back in Strihaven, if not worse.

He tried his very best not to gag as he overheard a nearby town-crier spout propaganda about the 'generosity' of the Duke and how everyone must always trust the word of their lords while also to continue their 'contributions' to the Duke.

Flynn was a cheerful, optimistic and free-spirited young man. The possibility of trouble rarely bothered him, and often simply made things more _exciting_. The number of things that could actually make him angry could be counted on one hand. Gross abuse of power and neglect of the common people was certainly one of them. He had traveled through many kingdoms in his recent years and while there had always been a few poor folks who had not done well in life and felt mistreated by those in power, most of those nations had very kind and respectable monarchs and nobility who treated the lower class well and with fair treatment before the law and more.

And yet, here he was in Weselton watching a homeless man get yelled at by two formerly arguing noblemen.

He had drifted off so he didn't see how the argument started, probably because the homeless man strayed too close to the men than they could tolerate. But Flynn could see where it was going. The noblemen, twin brothers apparently, had been arguing with one another over some petty dispute and now had combined their former bitterness for each other on the man. They were to quick assault him verbally with cruel insults ranging from his perceived lack of work ethic, his unkempt state of dress, calling him a 'lowborn hobknocker' (whatever that meant), and also to how his mother was most likely a diseased woman of ill repute. The bum stood up to most of this, giving a visible wince at the mother comment, and tried to apologize for his incursion on their precious personal space. The men would have none of it.

The verbal assault had intensified and now the men were threatening him with their canes, raising them in the air as if they were prepared to beat him. As luck would have it they didn't need to, the commotion had alerted a nearby city guard officer.

When the portly officer arrived he listened to the complaints of the twin noblemen, who had calmed down rather quickly and spoke with a well-educated vocabulary of the _grievous_ crimes committed by the bum. They also nonchalantly spoke of their stature in Weselton, their close partnership with the Duke himself and how they held his ear, who funded the police almost single-handedly. The officer, hearing what he needed to, turned towards the bum and pulled out a set of hand shackles and told the bum to put his hands behind his back.

The homeless man put his hands up and started to back away, eyes scanning for anyone to help him. The crowd of people just watched silently and the group of other homeless men and women had scattered long ago, he was surrounded and alone in this fight. When the officer pulled out his truncheon and tried to grab the bum he jumped back out of reach and bolted, trying to make it to safety. He didn't make it three feet before one of the noblemen casually extended his cane and tripped the man. Falling to the ground and gasping for air he held his crushed stomach as he tried to stand back up…

... only to have the officers' truncheon smash in the back of his head.

The bum fell to the ground again and tried to crawl away when the officer brought the truncheon down again and again, the blows crushing the man's already weak body. Flynn looked at the noblemen, who stood next to each other and watched the spectacle with pleased little smiles. He watched the crowd of people, parents pulling their children away from the scene and people just watching in stunned silence. He looked at the officer, whose face was twisted in anger with eyes that hinted of glee. Then he looked at the bum, who was looking back at him, with eyes pleading for help. Flynn was distantly aware that his hand was reaching to his waist where a sword would normally be, wishing he still _had_ a sword and had not set it aside days ago for fear of drawing unwanted attention. Instead, his hand was clenching so hard that his nails were threatening to cut into his palm. Flynn could feel the inner hawk in his mind level its full gaze towards the nobles and the officer, narrow and penetrating, aching to bear its talons and bring justice for the bum somehow.

By the time the officer had stopped and the bum was finally cuffed and taken away, the crowd had dispersed, the men in their fine noble clothes returned to their conversation, this time remaining civil and calm, and Flynn was long gone, having had enough.

And over in the distance, he could hear the town-crier speaking of the Duke's generosity.

Today in Weselton, his old desires for freedom had surfaced again with a vengeance. The image of the poor helpless man getting beaten by the whims of the noblemen still fresh in his mind's eye, Flynn Rider had had enough. It was time to put the rest of his plan into action. He just needed to make one last stop to complete his list of everything he needed. The fine boots from the angry tailor were yet another piece to his plan.

After all, how could one possibly attend a royal ball as one of their guests without proper formal wear? Legends weren't born from idleness after all!

 **~o~O~o~**

There was an old saying that Flynn had come to respect immensely whenever he laid out his preparations. _Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication._ He didn't care for overly complicated plans. They weren't very flexible and relied too much on variables. They _varied_. Instead, he preferred the much simpler plans that favored his style of not only having plenty of room for adaptability, but also took care of themselves. Not to mention being far more fun!

Flynn smiled at the memory of the plan he had employed for his last major caper back in the palace of Glowerhaven. Now _that_ was fun! While the plan had been _far_ from subtle, it was so simple that no had ever suspected him and he was even able to walk out the front door. The king himself even saw Flynn out personally! They didn't even realize that their prized ruby-encrusted horse saddles were missing until the next day, and they didn't deduce who the culprit was until he was already many leagues out of the kingdom.

For here in Weselton, the plan was a little trickier and much more risk, but still easily within his capability with the right preparation. The Duke was a man that worked tirelessly to impress others, and this party was his biggest endeavor yet. At a ball as prestigious as this one with so many influential figures present, nobles always loved to look their absolute best. They would be wearing all kinds of expensive items, medals and jewelry, as well as money pouches from their carriages and ships.

Instead of having to go through all that hard work of having to journey to so many different kingdoms, Flynn could now walk right into a room that had all of those wealthy nobles in one place! He could only imagine the _travel time_ that he would save!

Of course, he would have to get in somehow. With all the effort he had put into this esteemed event, the Duke had spared no expense with security, not to mention whatever guards the visiting nobles had brought with them. Sneaking wouldn't work, he would have to walk right up to each one to pick their pockets. He needed a disguise.

 _'At least I won't be wearing a servant's outfit. That would clash with my eyes!'_

Most nobles wouldn't look twice at a common servant, and none at all would lower themselves to look a low-born peasant in the eye. The guards, however, were a different story. They would be watching everyone closely… except the lord nobles themselves. Therefore, Flynn sought to use the status standing to his advantage and dress as a noble himself! He would be welcomed into the party with open arms and the guards would work to protect _him._ Even better, the guards knew better than to scrutinize a noble too closely.

 _A noble must have style, an outfit that should be tailored and razor sharp, like your wit._

Therefore, Flynn had spent the past week traversing all around the city, getting a single item from each shop in order to leave as minimal a trail as possible. It would be awfully suspicious if someone walked into to a sewing shop a few days before the ball and asked for an outfit to look just like a noble would dress, wouldn't it? Some parts of the outfit he paid for, others he quietly slipped out the back door with. It took most of the week for his multiple orders of clothing to come through, especially since all of the female tailors and blushing seamstresses wanted to take _extra_ time in taking Flynn's measurements, but the result was well worth it. Putting each piece altogether, he had a very convincing imitation of a Glowerhaven outfit of maroon-and-white velvet with silk threads of gold trimming here and there to project the undertone of comfort and wealth.

Once again, a simple plan! Dress up nicely enough, walk in, take their purses and then walk out and call it a night. The thought was mouth-watering!

Still, there were to be an incredible number of nobles attending. Flynn knew he would be walking into a castle with the highest concentration of authority in one place in several decades. These were the people that controlled the very infrastructure of society. They had their hands in everything from economies to politics to military. Even with his disguise, his immaculate ability to blend in and the element of surprise on his side, he couldn't just waltz in there without a trick or two up his sleeve.

Which was the goal of his final stop before he would head out to attend the party. He had heard of a smith named Boganti with an especial proclivity for what he was looking for. Apparently, this man used to provide gunpowder and other small munitions for the Southern Isle's navy. He had experimented with the gunpowder to help make explosive cannonballs that would detonate after penetrating inside a ship.

However, everyone that Flynn had asked scoffed at the very mention of Boganti, and spoke of him with distaste and aversion. No one thought very highly of the man, and few ship captains wanted to purchase any wares from him. Apparently, after over ten years of loyal service, the Southern Isles navy decided to void his supply contract and then dropped him like a forgotten piece of armor.

Flynn remembered his home at the orphanage and the hard times they went through. He wasn't surprised that some people had just as poor luck and unfair treatment in their business. As he approached the workshop, the faint smell of used gunpowder drifting from within, he resolved that he would certainly treat the poor man fairly. If the man could still provide what he needed, he might even pay him!

 **~o~O~o~**

Any sense of sympathy and comradery that Flynn felt for Boganti was forgotten the moment he entered the workshop. The door opened with the gentle jingle from a silver bell attached to the frame to announce a potential customer's arrival… and the thief suddenly turned green as he was immediately assaulted by an overpowering stench that abused his poor nostrils mercilessly and blinded his senses.

 _'Gods on high!_ **What is that?!** _Did a sea serpent or some other monster throw up sewage in here? Or rotten haggis dipped in horse manure? Or is it… alright, shut up before you make yourself sick. What's the matter with you?'_

Scrounging up every ounce of his willpower to keep his breakfast from coming back up to say hello, Flynn lifted his head back up with his eyes still watering and beheld the rest of the bizarre shop. An open fireplace threw odd shadows in every corner. An entire wall was hidden behind a row of cupboards holding a collection of jars of assorted sizes filled with varying gunpowders, liquids and grain. The worktables were overflowing with opened books and parchments, vials of strangely colored fluids standing next to a mortar and pestle, a strange apparatus that seemed to be boiling something greenish simmering over a small but intense fire. Finally, there were a number of puddles scattered all over the stone floor of a substance that Flynn absolutely refused to try to identify, let alone _step in_.

"So that's what's making that charming stench…"

"Stench?! Impossible!"

With his legendary skills and instincts that he had refined to be constantly aware of his surroundings, Flynn could count the number of people that could sneak up on him on one hand. An aging Boganti had just made the list when he seemingly teleported out of nowhere at the thief's side. Even the inner hawk in Flynn's mind was startled!

"GACK! What the devil-?!"

Boganti gave no reaction to Flynn's shout of surprise and simply continued on like nothing had happened. "I have no stench! I bathe eight times a day! It's the only way to keep those invisible crabs from drinking all of my sweat!"

…What?

"What?"

Boganti blinked as he observed Flynn with cloudy eyes. "Wait, what are you doing? You-you can't stand there! That spot is reserved exclusively for my minotaur friends, it's where they can hear the singing from the blue whales that swim through the river! You are _clearly_ not a minotaur, your nose is too small!"

 _That_ was the reason that told Boganti that he wasn't a nine-foot hulking horned monster? _Ooookaay…_ now he realized that the Southern Isles Navy actually had a good reason to stop doing business with the man. Clearly, he had spent far too much time cooped up in his workshop while running experiments and breathing in the fumes and gas from this much gunpowder both fresh and decayed. Seriously, how could you keep breathing in this stuff and expect to stay mentally healthy?

Regardless, Flynn did his best to keep a beseechingly polite smile. "Uh, nice to meet you. Listen, a little bird told me that—"

Boganti's wide eyes suddenly grew ever wider. "You can talk to birds? Do you _also_ speak their language? Wait, you don't sing do you?"

Before Flynn could even begin to try to think of a response to _that_ , Boganti suddenly held up a bowl of something _unmentionable_ rather uncomfortably close to his face, along with a fork. "Would you care for a bite of hákarl?"

Flynn had suddenly discovered the cause of one of the ungodly smells in the warehouse, and it was now three inches away from his poor nose. Eyes watering, he could only croak, "Uregh _… what's in that?"_

"Fermented Arendelle shark meat!" Boganti answered brightly. "It stimulates the senses and I've been told that it helps very nicely with a singing voice! Don't worry, it's only two months old!"

"… I'm good."

Boganti shrugged. "More for me!"

Flynn could only watch horrified as the man stuffed his face. "Maybe you should step outside every once in a while, and get something much more _fresh_ to eat. Have you ever heard of chocolate ice cream?"

"Did my wife tell you that? She's been dead for twenty years. Don't listen to her," he dismissed.

Considering the fact Flynn had only just spoken to Boganti's wife when asking for directions about twenty _minutes_ ago, he couldn't help it anymore. He let out a small chuckle as his nerves calmed down. Despite the man's obvious insanity (and terrible stench), he was clearly harmless and rather amusing in his own way.

"Alright Captain Crazy, is there anything here that can help me with making a lot of noise?"

Boganti only seemed to fixate on a specific part of his customer's words. "Captain?! How dare you! I'm an _admiral_!"

Flynn stared for a moment before he suddenly got a clever idea. Then he snapped into a military salute. "Sir, understood _sir_!"

The thief swiftly shifted next to Boganti's right side and put a hand around the crazed shopkeeper's left shoulder in a friendly manner before conspiratorially pointing to the man's other side. "Look there, admiral! Invaders, coming across from the western front!"

Boganti looked at the blank wall Flynn was pointing out, and his eyes widened in alarm. "Good heavens!"

Flynn snapped back into a dignified military stance with his back straight and spoke with a respective tone. "I am on a secret mission from His Majesty the King, God save him, and I am need of your support, sir!"

Boganti nodded, his eyes hardened in determination. "Anything for His Majesty! Now tell me how I may be of service."

"Admiral, I have a plan, but I could use something to serve as a diversion, perhaps something very loud. Do you have anything that can temporarily stun a large group of people, a harmless manner of crowd control?"

Boganti silently rubbed his chin in deep thought. Then his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. "Something powerful but nonlethal, you say? I have just the thing!"

After darting over to his cabinet and rummaging through his wares and tossing a number of them over his shoulder, which Flynn casually dodged, he came up with a waxed vial that held a clear liquid.

"There's the little devil!" Boganti declared triumphantly as he began to mix the substance with a few powders. As the mixture started to boil, he looked back to the thief.

"I can see why the king entrusted you with this mission if you were able to make here both alive and remarkably unscathed! No other soldiers have been visiting me to requisition my explosives because they keep getting attacked by those seagull assassins!"

 _Did he just say seagull_ assassins _?_

The thief suddenly recalled a memory from a month ago…

 **~o~O~o~**

 _Flynn was just about to board the ship that was sailing to Weselton, as he had decided to make a rather hasty departure from King Eric and Queen Ariel's kingdom of Seahaven._

 _Just as he placed his right foot on the boarding ramp (Not the left foot obviously, horrible luck mind you), he spotted a particularly odd seagull that flew over his head. It was a rather strange seagull that seemed to be wearing half of a coconut shell that had somehow been modified into a helmet._

 _And then the seagull crashed into a window, plastering himself eagle-spread against the glass, before slowly sliding off._

 _Flynn didn't know much about animal intelligence, but that particular seagull was clearly an idiot._

 **~o~O~o~**

"Uh… yeah! Those crafty and intelligent birds are _always_ up to something shady."

Boganti nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! The people in these parts just can't stand them!"

"… I thought it was the nobles that the people can't stand."

"Who do you think controls the nobles? Those infernal sneaky little birds! They think they're so clever, but remember that I speak the language of birds! Just like you!"

Flynn nodded sagely.

Boganti abruptly turned back to his mixing pot and stuck his head _into it_ to look at the contents more closely. As if on cue, there was a small flash and a loud _pop_ as the pot belched a large explosion of smoke. The man simply pulled his head back out no worse for the wear, although he seemed oblivious to the fact that his face looked as though it had been a sooty chimney he had pulled out of.

"It's perfect!" he cried. With that, he took what looked like a cannonball and poured some of the pot's contents into it before screwing it shut with wax. It looked like a bomb.

"Don't worry, it's perfectly safe and completely harmless! That is, unless…" Boganti's eyes suddenly widened in horror as he looked back to the thief. "Unless… are you a mermaid by any chance?"

Flynn blinked once. Then he blinked twice more before the bizarre words finally set in. "I'm… pretty sure that I'm not."

To say that Boganti looked relieved at the answer would be a monumental understatement. He looked like he was about to faint from sheer relief. "Thank goodness! You see, this is filled with ambergris gas. Merpeople go crazy over it if they smell it. One whiff of it and they'll be fawning over you for a week!"

"… Uh-huh," Flynn wryly answered. "You mean to tell me that mermaids exist?"

"Of course they do! Once when I was shipwrecked with a few friends, a kind-hearted merman named Archimedes brought us food and water!"

"Riiiight… well, I can promise you that I'm not a merman. No fish tail or anything last time I checked. But anyways, what about _humans_?"

By the time Boganti finished explaining the effects of ambergris on _humans_ , Flynn could hardly stop grinning.

"You might be able to use this in your mission."

Flynn eyed the black sphere in hand with glee before pocketing it. "Oh god, I hope so! This will do perfectly!"

"I can promise you that it will serve you well, soldier!"

"Yes, sir! You have done me a tremendous service and you have my thanks, sir," Flynn smiled. "But remember, this is a top secret mission from the king himself. No one else is to know about it lest our enemies discover it! This meeting never happened and you and I never spoke, no matter what anyone else says. Can you imagine if those _birds_ were to find out?"

Boganti blanched at the thought before steeling his resolve. "You can count on my discretion, lad. Make sure to use the ambergris in good faith!"

"Oh, I can promise you they won't know what hit them," Flynn Rider proclaimed as he handed the man a pouch of coins and left the shop.

"Good luck, my friend!" Boganti called out. "If you should explode, feel free to come back and tell me all about it! _Everyone else has!_ "

 **~o~O~o~**

It was time. The party was tonight.

After dressing himself in the fancy maroon-and-white velvet outfit of fine-spun wool, cotton and silk that he had spent the last week putting together to imitate Glowerhaven nobility, Flynn Rider set off to acquire a horse. Anyone of true importance would be arriving in style and riding a horse above everyone's height would fit perfectly. In order to blend in, he ironically had to stand out.

With his new 'noble' clothes, the guards were surprisingly eager to recommend a good stable for the 'visiting lord'. They directed him to the finest stable in the city, one whose breed of horses were sought by everyone from simple farmers to illustrious nobility, due to their swiftness and endurance along with their tame but spirited nature. Seeking a horse of distinction to fit in amongst the nobles, he settled on a fine cinnamon brown horse named Triks with silky black hair that glinted in the light.

Luckily, the merchant at the stable was a fair man. Since his horses were of such quality that they were highly recommended by the Duke's associates, he preferred to offer a nice discount to nobles in order to keep a good reputation amongst the upper class. The price went even lower when he learned that Flynn was interested in Triks. Apparently, Triks was a supple and nimble horse from Vorhaven that demonstrated a unique intelligence for horses. While he wasn't wild or untamable, he was difficult to sell because nobles preferred horses that were completely docile and didn't look at you with a keen eye. Thus, he was named Triks for 'tricky'. _Oh, how appropriate,_ Flynn Rider thought with a smile.

If he didn't know better, he could have sworn that the horse winked at him.

Flynn set up the saddle with a practiced hand, briefly pausing as he considered running back to his local cache to use the ruby-encrusted saddles he had made off with from his caper in Glowerhaven to show off. It would look fancy and extravagant enough, but he decided that he shouldn't stand out _too_ much, not to mention that word had likely spread that the ruby saddles of Glowerhaven were in the hands of a certain legendary thief.

He intended to sell them soon enough and making the saddles too public would— _HEY!_

Just then, a small boy who couldn't be more than six or seven was wildly playing tag with another boy and bumped into Flynn and kept running without so much as an apology. If Flynn's back wasn't turned while he was fixing the saddle, he certainly would have seen it coming a mile away, but even when late…

Flynn didn't even think. He moved on pure instinct and reflex before his conscious mind had even registered what had happened. In less than time than it took a person to blink an eyelid, his hand had already shot out, grabbed the boy's wrist and twisted it to reveal the pouch of gold that had been attached to his waist only two seconds ago.

His momentum abruptly halted at his wrist, the boy's feet slipped out from underneath him and fell on his backside rather comically with a grunt. He stared up at the man holding his wrist securely with wide, startled eyes. A brief moment passed before the boy's eyes changed from surprise to petrified terror. He had been caught in the act of trying to pickpocket a noble, the punishment of which was losing the very hand that committed the theft.

His face turned paler and paler at an alarming rate, and his friend was no less frightened as he watched. Nobles were _anything_ but forgiving when you stole from their own person.

"P-Please! Sir, I didn't—I mean… please don't call the guards! I—!"

To both their surprise, the 'noble' simply smirked and patted him on the shoulder. "Better luck next time, kid. Just remember that the sun can give you away if you stand out. Working amongst the thick crowds, however, would serve you far more."

The boy sat in stunned silence, unable to believe what was happening as the handsome man simply took back the pouch and let him go. The noble reattached it to his belt, hoisted himself up on his horse, and looked back to the boys.

"Hey, make sure that you watch the Duke's castle! They're having a party tonight, and you might just catch a good show."

And with a click of the tongue and a light jab of the heel in the horse's side, Flynn took off at a fast trot towards the upper district.

 **~o~O~o~**

"Did he just… did he let you go?"

"I-I think he did."

The other boy broke out of his stupor after another moment. "Stupid, stupid, stupid! I told you it was stupid to try to steal from a noble!"

"Stop calling me stupid! And it was your idea!" shouted the boy right back.

"Well, we're lucky he didn't turn us in. We better not try that ever again… but I'm just so hungry," he whined.

"Me too…"

"… how much did we pick up tonight? Do we have enough copper coins for a bowl of soup?"

"Not much, just some lint and, uh…" the small boy froze when he reached into his pocket. As if the laws of gravity had only just now noticed it, his pocket suddenly slumped towards the ground with an extra load of weight. When he checked, he found a handful of _silver_ coins.

"How did all these get in there?!"

Then he checked his other pocket and found _another_ large handful of silver coins!

"Whoa…" breathed the other boy. "I've never seen that much money before…"

They would eat well tonight and many, many other nights after! Maybe they might have more than just soup tonight? Maybe even cake? _Lots_ of cake.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _Showtime._

The wealth of the upper district shouted out at Flynn. Most of the mansions here on either side of him had fairly large tracts of land, but the dwelling that was his destination dwarfed them all. Situated on the edge of a sprawling mass of land, the Duke's castle loomed over its neighbors arrogantly. Beyond the gargantuan citadel set behind steep walls and metal gates, a vast expanse of woodland, empty plains and even a few small hills formed the rest of the estate.

Oh, he was going to have a lot of fun here.

As he approached through the first gates, he sighted the first set of guards. While their armor was polished and their lances poised, their stance was slouched and relaxed. These were the more rank-and-file guards assigned to the outer gates for the simple job of keeping the common riff-raff out. Flynn seamlessly adjusted his own posture as his horse drew closer, lifting his chin and held the reins with a graceful air of comfort, every inch a noble that was, of course, invited by the Duke.

The guards didn't even look at him twice.

 _That was easy._

Now he was in the courtyard, where the signs of festivity greeted him. Up high, strung on ropes spanning the square were lights and lanterns that would brought colorful ambiance all around in the pleasantly chilled night of April. There was an oasis of a large and beautiful fountain in the center. It was filled with men and women of richer clothes than any Flynn had ever seen; the richest of the rich were here. Dancing swept all over the square, violins and horns and other strings sounding over the stomping click of feet as men and women circled around each other, clapping and bowing, and twirling.

As one of the very few who had just arrived inside the courtyard on horseback rather than on foot, Flynn stood out easily and felt a number of eyes turning towards his direction.

 _Remember what you learned in posture, appearance, and what people see. Brilliance and extravagance starts with attention to detail._

He slipped himself off his horse with practiced ease and stood dignified and confident, with his shoulders held back and prominently displaying his pristine outfit.

 _Noble clothes, noble man. Noble posture, looking down the nose. A strut and swagger in the hips, heavy footsteps that carry a presence._

Seeing the new arrival, a stablehand attendant wearing the signature black and dark burgundy colors of Weselton approached Flynn respectfully and offered to take his horse. _Perfect._ On the outside, Flynn glanced carefully at Triks, appearing as if he were pondering whether he should hand his prized horse off to the help.

The man picked up on this immediately. "Not to worry, milord! We want to make sure that you feel nothing but the finest treatment and comfort during your stay here in our city, and this generosity of course extends to your magnificent steed as well. If you wish, I will personally see to it that he receives fresh hay and fruit as well as a good scrubbing that will leave him as clean as a mountain spring!"

"See that you do," Flynn returned cordially with a polite smile. "My steed is in your care. And please be quick about getting him to your stables." His apparent desire for expediency was only a cover for his need to have his horse comfortable and ready for later in case he needed a fast getaway. Regardless, Triks whinnied in appreciation as Flynn stroked his mane before providing the reins to the attendant and then turning to approach the castle entrance.

 _You are a noble, a man of influence, status and authority. An equal. Here at the invitation of the Duke himself._

Flynn stepped into the guest line smoothly, less than a foot away from over half a dozen people whose shoes alone were more expensive than the homes of most commoners. The greatest thief in all the lands was standing right next to them and they had not even the faintest clue. After a few moments, he was next in line for the clerk.

"Name?"

 _You must sound distinct, to speak with an eloquence that lets everyone know just who is in charge._

"Um… Count Mathis Gladstone of Glowerhaven, no guest," he answered, and his cultured tone, while seamless, sounded so contrasting to his usually cheerful attitude that he half expected the guards to draw their swords and demand his immediate arrest on the spot.

The man's eyes narrowed, and then he extended a white gloved hand with his palm open in expectance. "I'm sorry, but we haven't had any visitors from the Alliance in several _decades_. Do you have an invitation… _my lord_?"

The chirruping of birds and insects suddenly seemed to drop away as Flynn swallowed subtly. He felt the hawk in his mind stir uncomfortably. His _invitation_? He didn't see any of the other nobles hand over any blasted invitation! Then again, Glowerhaven was a member of the Alliance of Four Kingdoms. Relations between the Alliance and the Duke of Weselton were beginning to sour, and a noble from such notable and reputable kingdoms that had tense relations with the Duke would have to be invited instead of simply waltzing in.

"My invitation… right, of course."

Did he really have to use it so soon? Perhaps he _might_ have underestimated the Duke's desire for security. Flynn reached into an inside pocket, the same pocket that held the bomb from Boganti…

… and pulled out a pristine stamped envelope with a wax seal.

The clerk took the envelope and snapped it open to read the invitation. Suddenly, his eyes went wide at the sight of the signature written in emerald-ink next to the stamp of the Duke's personal crest.

Hastily handing the invitation back Flynn, the clerk magically went from curt and impatient to well-mannered and polite in under a second.

"Your grace! The Duke mentioned that representatives of your kingdom might be arriving, but we weren't certain, you never before sent any replies to the invitations!"

An awed murmur swept through the crowd as they looked to Flynn with a new level of admiration. Flynn's sharp hearing picked up snippets of their whispers. In all his travels, he had heard many times beforehand that the Duke had been trying to worm his way into the Alliance for the past twenty-five years but to no avail. Their reputation amongst other lands was far-reaching and getting the chance to do long-term business with them would open many doors of opportunity. The Duke had done everything in his power to curry favor with them. He learned whatever their monarchs craved in goods and luxuries, and then worked tirelessly to have them delivered to their palace gates with his best wishes as a 'gesture of good faith'. The finest orchid jams for Queen Ariel of Seahaven, the latest fashions for King Benjamin of Glowerhaven… the list went on.

Not to say that the Duke had any success in his attempts to curry favor. Flynn's very own home of Strihaven was a member of the Alliance, and King Willard the 'Fox King' seemed particularly adamant on thoroughly searching every delivery from Weselton and was said to have long maintained a rather angry line of correspondence with the Duke for many different reasons. The mountain kingdom of Vorhaven outright _ignored_ the gifts on their doorstep while Seahaven and Glowerhaven merely accepted them with a polite and formal smile but nothing more. The Duke had even less success with sending them invitations to any prestigious events he hosted.

For one of their representatives to actually arrive to attend the Duke's personal ball after over two decades was unprecedented but far from unwelcome. Of course, Flynn had learned from a blushing maid that he had 'acquainted' with that the _real_ Count Gladstone was still at his mansion all the way back in Glowerhaven and never once had any intention of attending the Duke's ball. That made it all that much simpler for Flynn to make off with the Count's invitation during his earlier caper there. If the Count was that disinterested in attending, he still probably hadn't even noticed the invitation was missing! _Works for me._

The clerk continued to sputter in shock. "I-I-I'm sorry that I did not recognize your colors and—"

Flynn smiled and held up a hand to calm the man as he spoke in his false noble accent. "Good sir, _please_ relax yourself. There's no need to worry yourself on such a night of revels and festivities!"

He noticed out of the corner of his eye that the attendant from earlier had scrambled to turn Triks around and take him to the 'VIP stables' instead. Triks smiled cheekily.

The clerk seemed to regain his composure. "O-Of course, my lord! But sir, I must ask of you if His Majesty of Glowerhaven will be attending as well as you?"

"A thousand pardons, but I cannot make promises above even my station on the behalf of my lord and sovereign."

The clerk hid his disappointment well, but composed himself with the count standing before him. This was still a major step forward for the Duke!

"Just as well, I suppose. Please your grace, do enjoy the party and our noble Duke's generosity!"

A genuine smile spread across the face of Flynn Rider. "Oh, I'm _certain_ that this will be a night to remember…"

* * *

 **Hello again, everyone! Now that the prologue is done with, I hope you've enjoyed the first** ** _official_** **chapter of the story as we take a deep look into one of the two main characters and his adventures. As I've said, I've always enjoyed the 'dashing rogue' archetype like Han Solo and Captain Jack Sparrow. Now to anyone that might think that this portrayal of Flynn Rider is OOC, I personally do not see it. This is exactly how I, and many others, understand his character and personality as someone who lives how he chooses. A life of risk and rewards! Someone who was inspired by his storybook idol to rise from nothing and live a life of adventure. What I have done here is simply brought Flynn's character to life in a way never done before, giving his character the full potential to shine!**

 **Also, the character Boganti the crazy chemist is my own shout-out to a similar character from the Smuggler storyline in Star Wars The Old Republic, a storyline that helped inspire me greatly and offered a major in-depth understanding of Flynn's kind of character.**

 **I must also make it clear that there are NO promises of a fixed schedule of updates. If I am to make the best possible Tangled novelization for all of you, then I must devote the proper amount of time, effort and attention to my writing. While there will be a noticeable amount of time between updates, I can safely say that the results are more than worth it! This new chapter will be an exception, for while it may be exactly one week after the prologue was published, I wanted to catch the fresh momentum I had started and I also felt it fitting to upload the next chapter that was focused on Flynn Rider on St. Patrick's Day, a holiday that celebrates a culture filled with** **leprechauns. Such clever, mischievous and lucky creatures, much like Flynn Rider.**

 **The characters and events of Tangled and Frozen are owned by Disney. Credit for the Alliance and its member nations goes to DarkDragonFires12, my friend and partner in this story-verse. Everything else is mine.**

 **Please, read and review! Until next time!**


	3. A Thief with a Heart of Gold

**A Thief with a Heart of Gold**

 _"There's no more deeply moving religious experience than cheating a cheater."_

\- Bret Maverick

This was going to be his greatest trick yet.

Right after coming through the massive entrance doors to the mansion, Flynn strode through the extravagant reception hall filled with Weselton's most prominent, excited for whatever might await him while his inner hawk senses remained ever aware for any threats to his cover.

People milled about the halls, in small groups and parties, talking of home, business and politics. Flynn stood in the main hall approaching the ballroom; rich, red carpet, white paneled walls, gold and brass trim everywhere, a grand staircase to the upper levels, and he reflected on all that had brought him here.

Here he was, the greatest and most wanted thief in all the lands, about to gate-crash one of the nobility's most extravagant parties. He would be standing in a room filled with some of the most powerful people of the realm, people whose decisions shaped the future of entire nations, and yet they had no power over him. He was his own man, he lived his life how _he_ wanted and _**no one**_ could take that away from him. Just like a great ship hoisting up the sail, he could go wherever he wanted. Being able to live such a life where he could make his own choices in spite of monarchs and emperors while embarking upon the greatest adventures of the world was nothing short of _exhilarating_.

"Presenting the Duchess Sabine Valliere of Shona!" came a voice from past the doors atop the staircase.

Flynn shook his head to clear his thoughts. There would time to revel in his success later. For now, he had a special party to attend while playing the part of a noble from Glowerhaven. It shouldn't be _too_ difficult. It was not as if he had to actually interact with anyone, just get close enough to lift a few valuables before moving to the next mark. If he absolutely had to speak with anyone, simply avoid discussing business and focus on small talk. Charm was one of his best skills after all.

He just hoped that they wouldn't sit at tables for dinner. He of course knew plenty well how to eat politely at a formal dinner, but he was years away from knowing the difference between the five different kinds of _forks_ at any fancy dinner.

"Presenting his Highness Prince Charles Waldstein of Albion!"

Flynn was next in line. Coming right up behind the announcer, he unconsciously straightened his collar and lifted his chin high for the sake of appearances. But when he walked through the doors and beheld the sight of the ballroom, his composure went slack for a moment.

To say that the Duke was a wealthy and well-off man would be an insult. The entire square ballroom was about the size of a small shipyard. The ceiling was incredibly high; at least three stories up with ornately draped windows just as tall, but even from that distance Flynn could see the intricate shapes that had been sculpted into it, an immense tapestry of artwork, from sprawling floral patterns to tiny carvings of cherubs and the like. The whole thing seemed to be held up by immense pillars lining each side of the hall, massive columns more in line with Greek architecture than the rest of the room called for. Tiers of balconies reached out from the walls, allowing people on the second and third floors to mill about above those on the ground floor. The very entrance dais Flynn stood atop was erected one story above the ballroom floor, clearly intended to present ostentatiously new arrivals before the entire ensemble.

There were servants with trays overflowing with fruits and meats circulated. Beautiful dancers wearing alluring outfits with flowing hair and beaded ornaments danced to amused calls of the men surrounding them. From a balcony above, a small band played lively music; flutes and drums of some kind and those already well into the revelry were swaying with the music, if without much rhythm.

To show off more of the Duke's wealth, a number of affluent statuettes, vases, and even antique weapons with decorations and polish meant to counteract their timeworn surfaces were on display. Along the expansive walls were portraits of monarchs and noble family members mixed with expensive oil landscape paintings of beautiful sceneries. Hanging off the ceiling were several luxurious chandeliers of genuine crystal. In response to the approaching night, the candles were lit to supply light that caused the whole thing to glitter.

A _fabulous_ waste of money!

"Ahem."

Flynn started for a moment, snapping out of his daze before turning to see the announcer looking expectantly at him. Understanding, the disguised thief immediately handed the man his invitation. The announcer briefly looked it over before doing a double-take at the name of Flynn's apparent nation. He gave a quick glance at the smiling new arrival before calling out to the ensemble once more.

"Presenting Count Mathis Gladstone of Glowerhaven!"

The reaction was no different than outside as a small wave of surprised murmurs swept through the assorted groups in the ballroom. Flynn mentally grinned as he seamlessly adjusted his posture and stance once again before giving a polite wave to everyone. To the ladies of the ensemble watching him, he made sure to meet the eyes of several and offered his most charming smile which caused more than a fair number of giggles and blushing, much to the bother of their husbands.

Flynn found that he couldn't help it. He _enjoyed_ being 'Mathis Gladstone'— it felt liberating to play the role of a proud man who was set for life. There were certain parts of Mathis that he wanted to keep as souvenirs and keepsakes: his clothes for one, his respected position. His bearing.

As Flynn descended the stairs, he smiled as he realized that now for this one night, he was one of them.

 _You are a noble. Not a thief, oh no. Perish the thought. An equal. Here at the invitation of the Duke. You are one of the elite members of socie-OH! Is that a genuine Lucrenda Nayea?_

Flynn's eyes did not deceive him as he spotted one of the famous Lucrenda's paintings. As an artist, she painted the most breathtaking landscape vistas and stunning portraits for royalty, which made her work highly sought after. The piece that Flynn was fighting not to _drool_ at was worth enough to buy a small _fleet of frigates_ with copper hull plating and white cotton sails! Such a piece would go a long way for Flynn to achieve his dream of a private island one day, if only the painting wasn't four times his height and therefore _impossible_ to carry let alone out the front door without being noticed!

 _Shame._

Now that Flynn looked more carefully, his keen eye began to recognize more paintings and other valuable works of art, as well as their worth. His eyes went wide as he began to understand the true wealth of the Duke.

 _Wait a minute… is that… is that really one of Isaac Alde's sculptures?_

The thief stared reverently at the masterfully carved piece, which was more valuable than ever since the artist had passed away last year. This sculpture alone could refurbish the entire lower district of Weselton six times over and still have more to spare! Then Flynn's eyes wandered to another nearby statue of similar design. _The Duke has more than one? Could it be that…_

Flynn's eyes swept over the entire ballroom, easily picking out every piece. _Three… four… seven… twelve… nineteen! That's every piece Alde ever sculpted! The Duke has the entire set?!_

He couldn't believe it! The Duke had Isaac Alde's entire collection on display in his ballroom to show off to the rest of the nobility. How in the world did the man manage to get every single piece? The cost for the whole set was astronomical, making his head spin. He could buy _five_ private islands with that kind of money, and still be set for life! Even his grandchildren would have more money than they'd know what to do with!

Still, as Flynn looked closer at the one before him, something minute about the sculpture seemed off to his sharp eyes…

But any thoughts of his suddenly went out the window when the most wonderful of smells hit him and made his stomach rumble. Being naturally attracted to magnificent things, the thief immediately followed the scent to find a massive ironwood table that presented a banquet. An abundance of plates offering the most incredible food was laid out, cooked to perfection as a resplendent feast to serve the guests to their heart's content. He could barely take his eyes off the golden turkey… a turkey! Coated in gravy alongside salted mutton, buttered biscuits, cinnamon truffles, roasted pig with a ripe apple in its mouth, malt bread and… _oh sweet lord! Cheese!_

Flynn _refused_ to lick his lips.

And even better, he took note of the many serving girls managing the food carefully, some tending to the dishes while others carried trays of appetizers and glasses of fine wine for catering requests from nobles. Cute girls and good food? He was a _man_ , wasn't he? How could he turn away from such an opportunity?

He also still had a job to do, buuut… he glanced around at the nobles throughout the ballroom, a good number of them enjoying the food themselves. Well, it wasn't like they would be going anywhere anytime soon. Nobles _loved_ their parties. Their valuables could wait and as a thief always on the move Flynn had never been presented with this much food before, let alone having being cooked so well! When he was still the little boy before becoming Flynn Rider, he would sometimes stand outside of lavish places, hearing the clinking of fancy silverware, smelling the expensive food. He wanted so badly to one day to eat as well as the rich. He and others were starving while those people were having the time of their lives. But tonight, he could eat like a _king_. And he was _never_ one to let an opportunity slip away from him.

And with that Flynn took a plate and started eating happily for the next half-hour, doing his best to keep up the appearance of a well-mannered noble. The food was so divine; clearly no expense had been spared (though he made a clear point of avoiding the fine wine, most of it anyway. He would need his wits for tonight). As he sank his teeth into a juicy slice of rich turkey, he closed his eyes and savored the succulent taste. He had never eaten so well before. Ah, this was his best idea yet! Yet another perk he enjoyed of being Mathis Gladstone. _I love my life._

And the company was just as delightful! He had put on his best smile for a nearby group of serving girls, who were eyeing him appreciatively and whispering back and forth behind their hands. Even a few of the dancers couldn't seem to take their eyes off of him. One of the serving girls managed to work up the courage to approach him when he got a spot of gravy on his chin, and the young woman tentatively stepped within the noble's personal space as she reached up to gently wipe his mouth with a silk napkin.

"Ah, my thanks _mademoiselle_ ," he responded with a winning smile that caused the poor girl to blush like her cheeks were made of ripe cherries. Like the incantation for a spell, the other girls saw that the attractive noble was more than welcoming of their presence and Flynn suddenly found himself surrounded.

"Lovely ladies," he greeted.

"Look," one of the women giggled. "It's that handsome lord! Oh, I wanted to see him up close!"

"Look at that strong chin!"

"Look at the long hair!"

"Feel his arms!" another girl gasped, her hands encircling his bicep.

They all giggled together and Flynn could not help but hold out his arms for them, offering all had a chance to see his build (one girl even being bold enough to grasp his backside).

"He's such a dreamboat! Oh, I'd love to set sail with him!"

Flynn gave a grateful nod. "Ah, my greatest gratitude is to each of you. A magnificent night of merriment indeed," he said in his high-class voice, giving another winsome smile. Whenever it came to women, his policy was 'love them and leave them _always satisfied_.'

They all giggled as he backed away and then noticed another cluster of ladies in desperate need of attention. _Duty calls_.

For the rest of the evening, each group Flynn came across was eager to fall for his charms. Several of the girls confessed that they'd been hoping to see him more than any of the other guests, and even more stated their names and where they worked, no doubt eager for him to pay a visit later on. Flynn looked over the ballroom, and felt his pride inflate a little as he saw that none of the other men were having as much good luck with the ladies as he was.

Then he noticed something else. He spotted another one of the dancers with a _very_ female shape standing a short distance away from the food table. Her shoulder length brown hair framed an elegantly sculpted face and her ensemble was far more distinctive than the other dancers and clearly of superior quality and design. The emerald dress did nothing to hide her full curves, doing far more to accentuate her figure rather than cover it up. In fact, the manner in which it hugged her slender figure was borderline _scandalous_ at such an upper-class event, yet still somehow maintained a dignified sense of taste. The green fabric curled around and clung to her bountiful bosom, the neckline exposing her collarbone to the warm ballroom air. Fastened around her neck was a black choker, a radiant green emerald stone set just above the hollow of her throat. More of the green fabric, shimmering with subtle shades of red and blue like a hummingbird's wing, wrapped itself tightly around her perfect hips, loosening a bit as it worked its way past her knees to halt just a few inches shy of her ankles.

But as enticing as her frame was, there was also a graceful subtlety about her movements that spoke of a strong sense of self and intelligence. A demure glance from her eyes enraptured the attention of many a nobleman, and even the gaze of a few women. _Ah, a woman with a measure of wit. Unexpected, but far from unwelcome._

Flynn smiled at the thought of how he might catch her attention for the rest of the evening. But right before he could even take two steps in her direction, his sharp eyes noticed something entirely different about her.

For one thing, her makeup couldn't hide the tired lines beneath her blue eyes from Flynn's sharp observations. The woman had not been sleeping well, and her eyes had no twinkle of life or energy in them. In fact, her eyes almost looked numb. Flynn suddenly went quiet as it was a look he knew all too well from someone who had nowhere to go, something he saw in the eyes of the other children back in Strihaven when the orphanage was still failing. They were the eyes of someone who had nothing left.

Then his inner hawk saw else something about her; picking out the set of her shoulders, the shift of her feet, a telltale blink. Aside from her attractive figure, something else about her was different from the other dancers and the guests. Her movements, her posture… she moved with a different sense of purpose instead of enjoying the festivities or entertaining the guests. As Flynn watched, he saw the woman stick to the sidelines and seem to avoid all eyes as she tiptoed around everyone. It was almost too obvious to his experienced eye that she was trying to escape notice. The hawk in his mind didn't seem to warn him about any hidden weapons or subtle movements that suggested hostile intentions, so he doubted that she was a threat of any sort.

Any speculation of Flynn's suddenly vanished when he saw the woman inch closer to the food table and then discreetly slip several pieces of the gold flatware up her sleeve.

His eyebrows went up in surprise. Well, it seemed he wasn't the _only_ thief present.

"Excuse me," Flynn politely addressed a cute redheaded waitress.

"Yes, what can I…" The waitress trailed off and blinked owlishly when she realized she had been approached by the handsome lord from Glowerhaven all the other girls couldn't stop talking about. "Milord! Um, how may I help you? Is there anything I can help you with? Anything?"

Flynn pointed back to the dancer. "You wouldn't happen to know who that young woman is, would you?"

The waitress followed his gesture, and tried her best to hide her disappointment when she saw the object of the man's interest. "Yes, that would be Opal. She's been working here a lot longer than any of us."

As Flynn listened, he learned much about the attractive dancer aptly named Opal. Most of the dancers and serving girls were only recently hired to help with the Duke's party of the decade as on-call and would be finished here once it was over. Opal however was a permanent member of the Duke's staff, apparently having been handpicked by the man himself. Furthermore, it seemed her three sizes were a much sought after secret by the male staff. Sadly, since the waitress had only been brought about a week beforehand, she didn't know much more about Opal other than that the slender dancer mostly kept to herself and whatever rumors the staff came up with.

But judging by her sticky fingers, Flynn could guess that the woman wasn't satisfied with whatever the Duke was paying her, especially if her despondent eyes told him anything.

He was still very tempted to sweet-talk her, but any advances from him would draw attention to her as well as stall her efforts. Far be it for him to get a beautiful woman in trouble, so he decided to leave her be. After all, treasure didn't just fly into his pockets whenever he wished, although that would be the best thing _ever_. So he had to work well to earn his spoils.

Indeed, he had filled his belly and entertained himself with the ladies. Now it was time to go to work.

He had spotted his first mark already…

 **~o~O~o~**

It was a rather lively night in Weselton. Even for the many who could not attend, the lights and sounds of the Duke's party could be seen for miles away. There was not a single person in all the city who did not dream of what delights could be found inside the festive celebration held by the highest nobility. Wealth, beautiful women in the latest fashions, laughing, drinking Corona wine and not having any worries. Living in opulence when many others starved and considered themselves fortunate to find a few scraps for dinner.

But now something new had arrived in the city, as a magnificent ship sailed into port.

Triple masted with white sails, double decks and fifty bronze cannons with maroon hull plating and white paint across the top deck's armor plating. It was a man-o-war armed to the teeth and crewed by the finest sailors and most disciplined soldiers of the kingdom it hailed from, resolved to protect the valuable cargo and the distinguished passenger it carried.

Most of the city's visitors were powerful merchants and nobles from the surrounding countryside selling their produce, or merchants travelling in caravans to hawk their wares, especially in recent times as anticipation of the Duke's ball. Richly-clad courtiers and harried messengers sailed to and from the city at regular intervals, due to the major political and economic influence the Duke carried. But this group of new arrivals was different. For a start, the Weselton guards at the docks didn't bother stopping them as they disembarked from their ship, instead hurriedly getting out of their way.

Moments later, a lavish carriage arrived to transport the new arrival. The guards from the ship stood in two straight parallel rows facing each other, lining up in picture-perfect formation. Seconds later, the door from the ship opened once more and out into the open stepped a man that carried great authority with every step he took. A noble white cloak draped down from his shoulders to his ankles, accenting the bushy silver and red beard and eyebrows of his face.

As he strode through the line of his bodyguards and reached the carriage, he lifted one foot inside before he stopped and turned. Even from all the way down at the docks, the opulent mansion could be espied. The visitor's eyes narrowed to slits at the sight. For once, he had no interest in such festivities, rather than his _issue_ with one very specific man inside.

"After all this time, you thought yourself so clever, didn't you?" he muttered under his breath. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

With that, he stepped into the carriage and slammed the door shut.

"To the Duke's mansion, and make all due haste," he ordered. The carriage horses soon took off at a steady trot while the line of bodyguards had climbed atop their own horses to follow as the visitor's escort.

The group was cantering at an even pace towards the mansion, and even from a distance one could see that all of them were experienced riders, moving in a practiced battle formation that denoted wariness. They all wore concealing hoods and travelling cloaks, but a sharp eye could distinctly see the sharp rapiers and arming swords hanging at their sides.

A visitor of great authority and importance escorted by over two dozen men, all experienced riders with battle-trained chargers, and armed to the teeth arriving in complete secrecy.

Many would believe that this did not bode well at all.

 **~o~O~o~**

Flynn realized he had made a terrible mistake.

Well, mistake was perhaps too strong a word. He didn't mind dressing up as Count Mathis of Glowerhaven – quite the contrary, in fact, since it got him past security and he could do as he wished – but he soon grasped that he had overlooked a painful gap in his planning. In order to keep up the guise of a noble, he had to actually _mingle_ with them and listen to all their inane chatter and their terrible conception of wit.

"… and that's when Cormac yelled 'milord, that's not how you eat black pudding!'" With practiced timing, Flynn laughed along with the rest of the group as though in on the joke. _Kill me now._

"How scandalous! You are _awful_ , baron!" laughed a duchess. "Oh, life is so dull! I would _die_ without gossip."

"Well, there's no shortage of it around here," said another noblewoman, who was wearing far too much makeup. "This is indeed one of the finest parties I've ever been to. Although the _help_ is much to be desired, not that it's any surprise."

Flynn was more than capable of keeping up a good poker face, but he still bit down on the inside of his cheek at the snide tone of disgust in her tone. "Oh? And what might make you say that?"

"That little attendant that presented us to everyone as we arrived? He got my exalted name wrong. It's Lady Irene Penelope _Annabelle_ Satine Samson Cortess! He missed my second middle name! He embarrassed me in front of my peers! Such incompetence and disrespect is absolutely unacceptable! I doubt I shall ever recover from such a slight!"

Flynn stared. It took all his will power to not react to the resentment over something so petty that only a member of the upper class could have. Nobles and their _titles._

On the outside, he smiled and gestured with his hand to draw her attention. "Come now! Let's not insult our host, who might I remind you has obviously spent a _fortune_ to set all this up just for us tonight." _Yeah, a fortune provided by the hard labors of the people of Weselton without any gratitude or remorse…_

Still, this seemed to placate the noblewoman as she reluctantly nodded in agreement while Flynn moved on past her.

It wouldn't be until Lady Irene prepared herself for bed later that night that she would notice her gold earrings were now missing.

It was like that with most of the other nobles. They stood together in their little cliques, laughing and chatting, helping themselves to the food that the servants provided without even thanking them, without even looking at them. As if they were furniture, a part of the scenery. Occasionally, one of them would call out an order for some foodstuff or another jug of drink, and they would be promptly obeyed by one of the many maids and kitchen hands standing there in silent attendance. The nobility always schemed and traded coin as easily as their loyalty beneath tables of exotic wood while the bodies of the poor filled the streets. They talked about the latest prisoner from the depths of the prisons, scarred and starved and then took bets on how far his head will roll. People starved in the gutters of Weselton, crying and begging for scraps, while these people laughed and drank the night away to lively music.

They talked of politics and discussed how they would handle the apparent increase in pirate activity if they were there, and how to win. Flynn tried not to roll his eyes. Upper-class people removed from the outside world and living in their ivory tower, who knew nothing of hardship and adversity, offering strategies that would "surely" fix everything. _Yeah, right._ Few things made Flynn truly angry, but he despised it when people who knew nothing of what they spoke tried to give advice, thinking they knew better.

The way the nobles talked made Flynn's skin crawl as he remembered the hard times that the orphanage and other people on the streets went through. For once, Flynn cursed his sharp hearing. That arrogant expectation that they would be obeyed, no matter how rude they sounded or how dismissive they were. The arrogance of nobility, thinking themselves higher and more important than any 'commoner'.

As good as his act was, he had to watch his step around these people. He had already attracted a little unwanted attention from one group of nobles from Albion when he had actually said 'thank you' to one of the servants. Apparently, complimenting someone of lower birth was 'improper'.

 _And they call_ **me** _self-centered and greedy? People like this take the whole_ wedding _cake, and probably even put a fancy 'Do Not Touch' sign on it!_

Seriously, _these_ were the people that the Duke associated with all the time? _I hate this guy. I don't even know him and I hate him._

Flynn could easily picture the Duke of Weselton, probably some hulking eight-foot tall _giant_ of a man that was covered in muscle with a rock-solid square jaw that never smiled, unyielding as a stone wall and as cold-blooded as a great white shark. Or perhaps he sat down in his fancy chair before the fireplace while wrapped in an expensive silk robe, chuckling gleefully to himself while he was smoking his pipe, swirling a glass of scotch, petting a white fluffy cat, and wondering what kind of orphan's tears tasted the best (Answer: The ones who saw their parents die).

Oh, it was certainly time for them to realize that they could not live so large and leave so little for the people. The Duke and his guests were certainly going to pay for it, right out of their own pockets. And with that, Flynn got back to work.

 **~o~O~o~**

Throughout his years as a master thief, Flynn had learned in his earliest days that pickpocketing was all a game of focus, usually keeping the mark's attention on something else through subtlety and misdirection. Attention was like a spotlight. While everyone focuses on the spotlight, they never pay attention to what happens outside it. The average human brain was slow and could not multitask. The key was to perceive what they think they're seeing; spontaneous human behavior was surprisingly predictable.

 _If I look at my hand while I already have their attention, it naturally pulls their gaze and allows me to enter their personal space._

"Excuse me, did you drop this?" And the person would look at it and not notice him lifting their purse.

 _When I look_ up _at them, it causes them to look directly at me and thus away from their valuables._

He twirled a countess by the hand in a dance while slipping off her diamond rings.

 _I tap them over_ there _while I steal from_ here _._

"Whoa, step lightly there!" he helped a man from skidding on wine (that Flynn spilled) while he slipped off his ruby cufflinks.

 _Capture their focus how you want it, you can take whatever you want._

Everything he took was discreetly slipped into the spacious inside-pockets he had sewn by the tailors into his outfit. He couldn't wait to put the latest additions to his wealth to good use! _Whoever said that money doesn't buy happiness clearly didn't know where to_ shop _._

"This is not the vintage I asked for, you half-wit _hobknocker_!"

Flynn froze as that last word registered. No. No, it couldn't be _them_.

He turned in the direction of the raised voice, and his eyes went wide. It _was_ them. The twin noblemen from the other day that had beaten a poor homeless man and then had him arrested for no reason other than stepping in their personal space. What was happening seemed to be a mirror for that day as well, for the twins were once again yelling viciously at someone of a lower station.

"What is the meaning of this?!" one of them demanded furiously. "This is the wrong wine! The wrong stock! Worse yet, it's been spoiled! _Spoiled_!"

He threw the glass at the servant's head, hitting him between the eyes.

" _Honestly_ , how stupid can you be? You got it from an open bottle, didn't you? One you probably left sitting on the counter like an idiot!"

"I-I'm sorry, sirs!" the servant said, near to the edge of tears. "It was a simple mistake! It won't happen again!"

The other twin stepped, glaring down at the man. "No, it will not. Your so-called 'service' to your betters is abominable! You can bet that we'll be having a word with the Duke about your future here."

The poor servant's face went two shades whiter in horror. He raised his hands as he apologized and pleaded profusely. The twins only backed away from his raised hands as if repulsed by a diseased animal.

" _Don't_ lay your filthy hands on our person! _Get out_! Get out of our sight before we call the guards!"

As the servant took to the offered opportunity to escape their attention, the first twin scoffed.

"It's so hard to find competent service these days! Commoners are just so plain and dull."

"Most right! Seriously, I doubt they can even tell themselves apart."

Flynn had to fight back his shock at the scene. He had seen plenty of nobles turn their chin up and look down on commoners, but to lash out at them like that? He had never seen anything like _that_ before.

"Disgraceful," muttered one of the nobles that Flynn had been pretending to chat with moments ago, before he would swipe his purse. At least, he was about to before the twins had loudly drawn attention.

Putting aside his mild surprise that some of the other nobles actually didn't approve, Flynn turned back to the man. "Oh yes, absolutely despicable. Say, do you know who those men are? Where do they hail from?"

A noblewoman raised an eyebrow. "You don't know? I thought everyone in the Alliance would know them. That is Prince Rudi and Prince Runo of the Southern Isles."

Flynn's eyes went wide. Those two men were _royalty?!_ Then again, he supposed it made sense. In his travels, he had heard a lot of stories about the royal family of the Southern Isles and its overabundance of male heirs. Over the past few years the Southern Isles had taken a noticeable dip in its fortunes and resources as they were rapidly frittered away by the incompetent, vain, and prodigal brothers on petty yet exorbitantly expensive personal luxuries. Seeing the two twins, Flynn had no trouble now believing those stories.

Still, he had to keep up the act of a well-mannered noble. "I take it you share my dislike of them as well?"

The rest of the group practically snorted. "Those rantipoles are a stain and an embarrassment to noble titles everywhere. Why the sovereign of the Southern Isles, their own father, refuses to reign them in and discipline them is beyond me. I assume their unbecoming behavior is why Glowerhaven and the rest of the Alliance cut ties with them?"

Flynn was forced to remind himself that most nobles still had _some_ standards. Regardless, he had to think fast. He honestly had no idea about the specific details about the Alliance having ended relations, but it wasn't hard to figure out why.

"Do you really have to ask?" he answered, pointing his thumb at the twins over his shoulder.

His sharp hearing could easily pick out the twins talking with one another complaining about the sad, low-born commoners, and how they should have a separate water supply since they would make the main water 'impure' if they were to drink from it. They talked about how the peasants ought to bang two sticks together continuously wherever they walked so that the 'proper citizens' could hear them coming and thus avoid a peasant's shadow. He even heard the twins discussing that a law should be passed so that the commoners would have a broom tied to the back of their waist to trail behind them and sweep away their filthy footsteps.

Flynn was _stunned_ at such a level of prejudice. _So, they're cruel, elitist bulldogs. My least favorite kind of bulldog…_

All the while, a deep anger built inside him and he had to remind himself not to let it show on his face, nor squeeze the delicate wine glass in his hand too tightly. As Flynn Rider, he was a man who lived not only for adventure and fortune, but also for freedom. And he had long since learned that freedom was a right for _all_.

 _Never forget the people around you. Be the best that you can be and all shall look up to you. Lend a hand to those around you, and they will carry you to greatness even as you carry_ them _to greatness, and you will learn from them even as they learn from you._

Flynn mentally nodded as he remembered his idol's words. He _had_ to do something about those two and find some way to put them in their place. _Or at least humiliate them to death._ He quickly looked them over with his sharp, searching for something, _anything_ , that could present an opportunity to… _wait_.

His inner hawk chirruped as he felt his eyes drawn to an ornate box in the princes' company. He didn't know what it was, but his instincts were telling him that whatever was in that box would help. _Well then, shouldn't be too hard. It's only being held by… uh, whoa._

It was then he suddenly noticed just who was holding the box. Despite Flynn's honed senses, it was still little wonder that the abhorrent behavior of the twins had distracted him from spotting their accomplice. A large, tall brute of a man who was clearly acting as a bodyguard for the Southern Isle princes. His face had a dark ebon beard and a head of short-cropped hair to match. His entire frame was rippling with muscle, making his seven-foot height even more imposing and quite menacing. His leather armor glistened in the light of the ballroom, his muscles flexing in a show of force. Intimidation, always a favored stance with bodyguards regardless of where or who they met. This man was bad news, whoever he was.

And the giant broadsword hanging from his back certainly sent a clear message in the intimidation department. _Good gods!_ That thing was the most tremendous blade he had ever seen, almost as wide as the giant man's head and very nearly ran the length from his shoulder to the floor. Despite its impractical size, Flynn shuddered at the thought of being on the receiving end of such a weapon.

However, it was the man's eyes that drew his attention most of all. They were the eyes of a predator, cold and ruthless as the metal of his sword. His inner hawk made him feel wary about those eyes, eyes of hardened steel that were _looking right at him_.

Alarmed, Flynn quickly turned his head away from the heavily armed man's heated glare. _He's looking at me he's looking at me he's looking at me he's looking at me!_

 _No, don't panic. You are a noble of Glowerhaven, of the Alliance, here at the invitation of the Duke._

"And who is that, um, _rhinoceros_ disguised as a man?" he tentatively asked.

"That oversized brute of theirs is probably the infamous Roksar, a thug from Vorhaven but apparently, the best fighter of the Southern Isles. Word has it that he entered the Alliance's Tournament of Champions several years ago and got as far as second place."

"He got as far as _second place?_ " repeated another noble. "Impressive."

Flynn was inclined to agree. The renowned Tournament of Champions that was held by the Alliance every few years attracted the best fighters from across the realm. Knights, soldiers, instructors, and wanderers from far and wide would come to compete for the grand prize of riches and glory. To come as far as second place was both impressive and concerning about the aptly named Roksar's skill. He would be a lot of trouble to get past.

"I wouldn't call it as impressive as you might think."

"Really? Why?"

"During the final match, he didn't fight nearly as well as he usually did during the tournament. He was slow, sluggish and could barely stand on his own two feet. The man was thoroughly beaten by the reigning champion, Lord Richard Avitas of Seahaven, in front of the entire realm. Of course, if you were to listen to Roksar's side of the story, his personal water canteen had been drugged by the Lord Avitas as an act of sabotage. Then again, I heard that Lord Avitas was recently disgraced and arrested by King Eric as a liar, cheat and a traitor to his kingdom, so that claim might have actually been plausible."

"I've known the Avitas family for years!" proclaimed a count. "Richard must have truly been the most cunning of fiends to have evaded my notice! Nothing gets by under my nose!"

Flynn was quite amused by his claim. "Oh _really_?"

"Absolutely! Nothing escapes my eyes!" the count boasted. "I can spot a scoundrel pretending to be someone he's not in my midst just like _that_." He emphasized his point with a snap of his fingers.

Considering the famous outlaw who was standing just three feet in front of him, Flynn Rider obviously wasn't impressed.

"Regardless," the other noble continued. "The entire royal family of the Southern Isles believed Roksar's story about sabotage all too well back then, and believed that the entire thing was some 'Alliance conspiracy'. Apparently, they didn't keep quiet about their allegations."

Flynn stared. The Southern Isles had started shouting wild accusations at a coalition of no less than _four kings_? No wonder the Alliance put their foot down. He wondered why the nobles and royals here were so interested in punishing others. That couldn't _possibly_ be a healthy state of mind. But seriously, what kind of idiocy possessed the Southern Isles family to do something so daft?

He glanced back at the twins, and then realized that the question was self-explanatory. _Yep._ Well, at least that explained why Roksar had been glaring at him (and was _still_ glaring) so intently, considering that the colors of 'Count Mathis Gladstone' that Flynn was wearing represented a member of the Alliance.

"Are you certain that Lord Avitas was actually a traitor?" asked the other noble.

"Apparently, the man disappeared several hours after the charges were brought forward. If he really was innocent, he wouldn't have any reason to flee. Besides, after a careful search of his estate, the evidence they found there was overwhelming."

"Hmm… that's most interesting. Just when I thought no more outlandish claims and surprises would be coming out of Seahaven."

Flynn couldn't help but shake his head as he watched the two go back and forth. _One would say gossip is their lifeblood_ , he smiled to himself as he took another sip from his glass.

"What was the latest one?" asked the other noble. "Some giant sea monster attacking the Seahaven harbor while being led by a ragamuffin band of pirates, only to be defeated by some _woman_ with a flaming sword? Preposterous!"

Flynn's eyes bulged when the words registered, and suddenly choked on his wine.

"Are you alright, Mathis?"

Flynn pounded his chest and cleared his throat, then wiped his mouth with a handkerchief as he answered. " _Eh-hem!_ Sorry, just went down the wrong end. But yes, you never know what stories you might hear."

In truth, he knew _exactly_ who the 'woman with the flaming sword' was. She was the reason why he had _left_ Seahaven! He had just been walking down the street when his hawk instincts drew to him to a passing scantly-clad woman with dark brown hair and golden eyes. He wasted no time slipping a very fancy red pendant off her neck without her even noticing, literally right out from under her nose, and what a unique piece of jewelry it was! When he had looked more closely at it, the red marble at the center seemed to be holding a tiny little flame inside. A burning, _living_ flame inside a piece of jewelry! To this day, he still wasn't sure how it had been done. Perhaps a few drops of lamp oil were inside, placed by a skilled jeweler that kept it from burning out somehow? Regardless, it was certainly one of the most fascinating prizes he had ever found, and within seconds he had already decided he ought to keep it for himself. It was clearly one of a kind, and simply selling it kind of offended him just on principle.

Flynn simply could not describe how good it felt to have such a unique prize at that time, because it didn't last long.

Although he easily managed to lift the pendant literally from right under her nose without notice, the woman had been surprisingly quick to realize that it was missing and promptly gave chase. Seriously, who could have _possibly_ thought that someone would take issue with his taking such a special piece of jewelry? To Flynn's shock, she proved to be even faster than _him_ and tackled him to the ground moments later, pinning him down with the freakish strength of an elephant. She was _not_ pleased with him, and she made such displeasure crystal clear after she took back her pendant and then pointed a sword at his face and somehow lit it _on fire_. She had almost damaged his handsome face, and what a tragedy that would be! Worst of all, even his _secret weapon_ had failed to work on a woman for the first time in his life!

Still, he talked fast, managed to confuse her into lowering her guard and was able to slip away like a cat. Regardless, that was _one_ woman he hoped to never see again.

A short while later, he stopped at the best tavern in Seahaven, the _Mermaid's Trove_ , to have a drink and to prepare for his next heist. He had heard that Queen Ariel had an incredible collection of perfect pale pink pearls, _heh, try saying that five times fast_ , which was the rarest and most valuable kind of pearls in the region. How the redheaded queen could have possibly acquired so many flawlessly rounded pearls of such a rare hue and color was a great mystery to him, but they would still be worth quite a fortune. And _then_ Flynn overheard from the bartender talking rather excitedly with a few patrons about a woman (which matched a perfect description of the one who had tackled him earlier) that had been the one to knock the scoundrel Lord Richard Avitas from his pedestal, became the newest victor in the Alliance's Tournament of Champions and was now a bodyguard for the royal family in the palace. The _same_ palace Flynn had intended to sneak into and make off with the pink pearls?

 _Nope. Nun-uh. No way. End of story, goodbye, the end!_

He booked the first ship out of Seahaven half an hour later, and now he was here in Weselton.

And now he was hearing that the woman apparently defeated an entire crew of pirates and a hulking sea monster? He wasn't sure about if there had been an actual sea monster since sailors always loved to tell tall tales. And yet, after his encounter with that crazy woman, he found that he could believe her to be capable of such feats.

"Those are just silly rumors," continued the other noble, drawing Flynn's attention from his own musing. "And even those are nowhere near strange as those about Arendelle."

" _Nothing_ is as strange as Arendelle these days."

"Well, who knows what the royal family over there is thinking anymore?"

Flynn's features slightly sagged with relief at _finally_ having a more pleasant topic this evening, however brief.

Arendelle, the 'Jewel of the North', as many called it. A magnificent and welcoming kingdom. It was a wonderful place to live, with great and tempered weather. Crime was almost nonexistent, there was never any trouble from the nobility and it had a most incredible supply of trade for other kingdoms along with a booming economy.

Being high up in the north, ice harvesting always had been a viable trade, especially during the summer months. As kingdoms and countries sprung up and grew, there was always a need for ice to keep food preserved or to make fancy desserts for nobles or the wealthy. And the northern land had its own share of nobles that desired frozen desserts and delicacies. Contrary to what many might think, ice harvesting was a most essential as well as lucrative business, since it was the only way to keep food cold and properly refrigerated. Deserts such as ice cream were very expensive due to this, making the ice trade even _more_ profitable. Combined with how a considerable amount of the surrounding mountains remained covered in healthy and clean ice and snow no matter what time of the year, Arendelle became both the largest and most reliable supplier of ice to all other kingdoms in all the lands. Arendelle, however, thanks to its blessings of warm breezes from the sea, had much higher demand than the rest of the lands, which tripled the demand of ice and therefore guaranteed to always keep the icemen both busy and well paid.

Arendelle had always been a tempting target for trade merchants. Resting in one of the mountain fjords of the North, it always seemed to be a land set apart from all the rest. The sea about it always teemed with a magnificent bounty. Rich catches of fish, excellent whaling, and calm waters with good winds that gave trade routes safe and quick access to all other lands and kingdoms. Being one of the only few warm areas in the cold regions of the north, countless breeds of sea creatures migrated up to the Arendelle waters from all across the vast oceans, making it a prime fishing region for different sea creatures from across the world in one spot.

It was always sunny and warm during the summer, ever so much more than the rest of the coast, for the sea seemed to constantly bring healthy tropical breezes to cover it, allowing the timber in the country to grow tall and strong and constantly keeping the frosty, ice-covered mountains that surrounded it at bay. The sun seemed warmer longer, and even the mild winters were so gentle from the standpoint of a Northerner that it was considered mild and pleasant, and ships could freely come and go even then.

The indigenous residents proved to be a gentle folk. Arendelle secured its freedom as a sovereign nation along with all the other various isles and city-states. And among them all, due to the gifts of tropical warmth, the sea and fresh mountain ice, it prospered far above all others. Truly, the "Jewel of the North", which all flocked to see. The monarchy that had reigned there for centuries attributed it to divine blessings. The people attributed it to good fortune. The scholars and natural philosophers claimed it was due to good breezes that warmed the southern lands making their way all the way to the North and that one little spot of land nestled neatly in the fjord.

But the only thing that exceeded Arendelle's blessings was its mystery.

One morning twelve years ago, King Adgar and Queen Iduna suddenly sealed their palace shut. Its doors had closed to all visitors, both foreign and domestic, and most of the palace personnel had been dismissed that very day. Only the most senior and essential staff members remained.

Still, despite the unexplained termination of their employment, each of the dismissed staff members received a rather generous severance of no less than _one thousand gold coins_ along with a letter of recommendation signed by the king himself.

The charitable gifts to the discharged notwithstanding, the palace gates had been locked tightly without warning or explanation and had remained that way ever since. Couriers delivered messages and proclamations to and from the king and queen as was appropriate, but no one entered the palace anymore. Few were ever seen to leave, and the king and queen only rarely ventured outside the castle walls for the most vital and indispensable reasons before hastily retreating back within the closed gates. Not even their cherished daughters, Princess Elsa and Princess Anna, had ever been seen in all those years.

The mystery only grew stranger in recent times. Just over two years ago, the beloved King Adgar and Queen Iduna of Arendelle were lost at sea during a terrible storm. The entire kingdom grieved and mourned at the loss of such kind and respected monarchs, and no effort or expense was spared for their funeral service even though there were no bodies to be buried to rest. And yet, the gates _still_ remained locked as if nothing had changed, and once again no explanation was ever given.

Many kingdoms had been left perplexed and confused to no end. Trade and tourism had continued to and from Arendelle without a hitch, but the distinctive lack of any correspondence from the palace outside of anything relating to strictly professional business still baffled everyone near and far.

Naturally, wild rumors abounded to fill the vacuum left by the mystery of the Jewel of the North and spread like a blaze of wildfire through dry grass. Was Arendelle plotting something behind closed doors? Or perhaps it had discovered some great treasure or powerful resource that the royal family wanted for themselves? The gossip ranged from simple logic to dubious conspiracy theories to the outlandish.

Throughout his travels, Flynn had heard no end of the stories about Arendelle. He never particularly cared for whatever internal customs or machinations that royalty practiced, but something about Arendelle's outright silence felt off even to him. Whenever he thought about it, his hawk instincts always seemed to focus on one specific detail. It wasn't strange if a king or queen would rarely leave their castle for whatever reasons, while in the meantime their heirs would attend to state business in their stead as they learned the trade of running a kingdom. But why was it the other way around for Arendelle?

Why was it that the king and queen were sometimes seen outside the castle, but never their daughters?

Flynn soon gave a mental shrug.

It didn't really matter right now, he still had a few more things to take care of before he took his leave from the party. Nevertheless, Flynn Rider had every intention of visiting the Jewel of the North sometime soon. And why not? Who knew what treasures lay inside the palace of Arendelle? Something potentially never before seen by the outside world? Even if not, the idea of sneaking into that palace, to be the _first_ to set foot within the castle halls that had not seen visitors in over a decade, was too tantalizing to pass up. To see with his eyes what no one else had seen. To search for whatever great secret was kept from the rest of the world, to dive into a mystery that has baffled kings and emperors? Such a daring idea and challenge made his mouth water.

He shook his head, there would be time for that later. For now, he was still at the Weselton party and the gates Arendelle would be sure to stay closed for quite a while longer. Without drawing attention to himself, he subtly checked over all his many hidden pockets, weighing them with an experienced hand. He grinned as he estimated that he was carrying several fortunes in purses of gold, rings, earrings, necklaces and all kinds of fine jewelry. Most of the nobles' possessions were each worth more than several houses. He also made a mental note to see if he could return to the seamstress and offer her a bonus (in more ways than one) for being able to sew hidden pockets that could carry so much loot without making any noticeable bulges in his outfit. He should probably even order a few casual outfits with such pockets for any future ventures of his!

Flynn felt relieved at the thought of being able to leave soon. As much as he enjoyed the food and the company of the fine ladies, he couldn't stand the nobility here much more. All he had left to do now was figure out a way to slip that fancy Southern Isles box away from that elephant of a bodyguard and—

Flynn's thoughts were interrupted as a brass bell rang clear across the massive ballroom. The music and idle chatter of the room got noticeably quieter, all attention going to the presenter from before as he swung the bell in his hand. The man straightened his collar as he now stood before two grand doors.

"Your attention, milords! Thank you. We hope you have enjoyed yourselves thus far, but now it is my distinct pleasure to introduce… your host!"

Flynn's eyes widened. Such an introduction could only mean one thing. It was _him_.

 **~o~O~o~**

The Duke of Weselton, a man who was as arrogant as he was rich. In other words, very, _very_ rich. Since he had first heard about the Duke's party, Flynn carefully listened to everything he could find out about the man. Apparently, the Duke had originally come from a very minor noble family before marrying the heiress of a much more wealthy and influential family. But after a simple two years, the heiress suddenly died and through some very shrewd negotiating, everything the family owned went to the soon-to-be Duke. And that was only the _first_ time he had become a widower. Flynn didn't have to be experienced in the cutthroat politics of nobility to be quite suspicious of how the Duke had married a total of _three times_ within the span of ten years, only for the wives to strangely pass away and all their wealth and accolades went to him.

The man wasted no time in putting his wealth to good use with clever investments and efficient policies for himself. He quickly became the titan of the Weselton economic and industry by cornering the market with all kinds of his own smart (and merciless) business practices such as edging out competition and lobbying the local government. He forged his entire political power base through deals and partnerships with powerful friends, the vast majority of which were all standing with Flynn in the ballroom. Most of these people either supported the Duke for the sake of a healthy partnership or because they were heavily in debt. The Duke's allies in this room were the true source of his power and influence. Otherwise, one of the Duke's other most distinctive holds of influence was how he funded the Weselton City Watch single-handedly in order to control the police and to keep his finances tax-free, as well as to keep his rivals and underlings in check.

The giant doors slowly opened forth, and out stepped two rather tall men draped in pristine burgundy overcoats with intersecting gold buttons across the chest. One had his light brown hair combed back while his sideburns almost reached the bottom of his chin. His partner's hair had a much darker shade of brown, as well as a full beard across his face. Judging from their stance and their stoic glare at their surroundings, they were no doubt the Duke's personal bodyguards. But these men were not like the giant standing next to the Southern Isles twins. While Roksar seemed like a snarling yet experienced saber tooth panther, the Duke's bodyguards seemed more like trained and disciplined attack dogs. They stood in a silently imposing manner, and were disturbingly unfazed and unaffected by the bright and festive ballroom.

After a quick sweep of the room, the two bodyguards slowly glanced at one another in silent affirmation, before signaling the presenter to continue.

"Presenting the eldest son of the Earl of Govius Nol Hyllus of the Hyllus family, Order of the Bilderberg Group, First Class, Honorary Member of the Weselton Military Defense Committee, and Viceroy of Weselton by the Grace of God and the appointment of His Majesty King Henry the Third of the Noble House of Mormont, Rightful Ruler of the Kingdom of the Western Isles and Defender of the Sacred Lands…" the presenter warbled on, dutifully reciting the Duke's long list of titles.

Flynn lowered his head and mentally groaned as the man just kept going on and on. _I swear to god, if I have to hear more of his fancy titles for another five minutes, I'm going to_ attack _someone. This guy's name is far too long; I'm just going to call him 'the Duke' for short._

Mercifully, the ridiculous list of noble titles ended and "… Duke Henruis Nol Hyllus of Weselton!"

So _that_ was his name. Flynn promptly forgot it.

But the thief had to fight to contain his surprise when the underwhelming figure that stepped through the doors and into the light of the ballroom and was _nothing_ like the mental images he had pictured earlier of the Duke of the Weselton. Dressed in a dark blue dignitary uniform, the elderly man was instead geriatric and flimsy in his tiny build, with large circular spectacles and a ridiculously thick gray mustache that covered the man's entire mouth.

Flynn blinked. Twice. _This_ was the shrewd man exploiting the people and cornered the economy into the palm of his hand?! _But, but! Cold-blooded giant! Fluffy white cat!_ He had been expecting a menacing business tyrant or a sadistic scheming snake, not some… skimpy old _imp_!

Now, Flynn had certainly heard the nickname that many people (and even a few nobles) had for this man as the Duke of 'Weasel-Town'. But seriously? How could anyone call him that name with that oversized _nose_ of his? In Flynn Rider's opinion, the man was more like the Duke of **_Nasal_** -Town. _That's right! Nasaltown!_

The Duke of Nasal-ahem _-Wesel_ ton slowly descended the staircase in a practiced descent. Then when he reached just ten steps before the floor, he stopped his descent. No more than a few moments later, the tenors silenced and the music died down, letting silence take hold over the room. A servant brought him a tray with a single glass of a golden-colored brew, no doubt finer than anything else that was being served. Not giving the servant a single glance as he took the glass, the Duke gently swirled the beverage, letting the silence play out a little bit, if only to make sure that all attention was on him. Seeing that it was, only then did he begin to speak.

"My lords and ladies," he said with his slightly adenoidal voice. "I thank you all for coming to this little soiree of mine. The past year has been a most glorious one, for not just the nation but also for my humble self. Yet this year it has also been filled with troubling news. There has been word of increases in pirate attacks, ships lost at sea and cosigned shipments that have disappeared. And lately there has even been rumors of mysterious creatures roaming about our lands. Many trade businesses and other companies grow worried and concerned over this.

But we must not be concerned by such trivial occurrences and outlandish stories. One must only look around to remind themselves of what they are a part of. Look at this house, this fine food and drink brought before us. Look at the great cities, the vast harbors, the ships bustling with cargo and all our respective kingdoms. Look at all that has been built. Built by men and women that work for me, work for _us_. A great system of industry and economics, a powerful collection of mechanics that have run for more than a hundred years and will run for a thousand more!

And they come to us with talk of brigands and a handful of missing shipments? These are but a few drops in the large pool of our civilization's design. It is a disrespect to the very system that works day and night to build the cities and ships that has still brought the very food and drink before you. I have full confidence that within the next few months we will all have further cause to celebrate. Let us never forget that we are the masters in investment. Any instability and strife can be resolved. Even so, there are those who believe the western lands will never be settled. That the Northwest Passages will never be mapped. That a band of pirates will never submit to providence. And it is that very manner if small thinking that would say this time of unrest would be any kind of threat to all that has been built. Always remember: Discipline, time and patience are the three great levelers."

And with a grandiose gesture, the Duke raised his wineglass. The audience followed him with their own glasses. "And so, a toast! To the glory of our business, the fortunes we are so rightfully blessed with, and to the greatness of our blood! May there always be a market for the things we do! Here, here!"

" **HERE, HERE!** "

Everyone drank together for the toast, although Flynn was drinking in honor of something _very_ different indeed. And so as everyone sipped their wine and the party resumed just as quickly.

Flynn, however, kept his eyes on the Duke. Despite the man's flimsy appearance, after that speech it was clear what kind of man he was. And the thief knew better than most how looks could be deceiving.

As the Duke looked over the ensemble, he seemed to notice someone he recognized and strode forward with purpose. For whatever reason, Flynn wasn't surprised that he was meeting with the Southern Isles twins and seamlessly shifted his stance to make himself less noticeable as he discreetly followed to listen.

"Ah, your highnesses," the Duke greeted excitedly. "Rudi and Runo! I'm delighted that my two close friends, and favorite customers of course, were able to come!"

"We wouldn't miss one of your parties for the world!" one of them returned. "You've really outdone yourself this time!"

"As if I would ever do anything less. It does my heart good to see you here among all my other friends of supporters. I know I can always count you among them, correct?" the Duke asked with an expectant raised eyebrow.

"Oh yes, we're pleased to aid you in your dominion over Weselton," the other twin eagerly proclaimed.

Even with that oversized mustache, the Duke's hidden smile did not escape Flynn's sharp eyes. He could already guess what the Duke was lining up.

"Well, I can say that you're in for a pleasant surprise, your highnesses. I am most pleased to tell you that the shipment you ordered from Albion has finally arrived as of this very morning."

The twin's faces suddenly lit up as if Christmas had come a month early. "You did it? Already?! You finally got them to settle the deal?"

The Duke sighed oh so dramatically. "I don't want to go into it, the negotiations were a most trying and arduous task. It was quite difficult to secure it, but your trust in me is well placed and I did it just for you two."

 _Hook…_

"Of course, the effort and expediency I spent on your securing your wares cost me two other contracts with Shona. I trust you won't mind compensating me the difference as a little extra?"

 _Line…_

"Are you kidding? I never thought Albion would ever agree, let alone four months early! It's a done deal!"

 _Annnd sinker._ Flynn rolled his eyes. He had participated in more than enough scams to recognize one when he heard it, and the Duke hadn't even been trying to be subtle. Not that he needed to, the twins were gullible idiots that paid through the nose to get whatever made them feel on top of everyone else. And the Duke had clearly recognized a set of naïve buyers with deep pockets, and soon had them eating out of the palm of his hand.

"And even better, I might just be able to lay the ground work for them to sell me the exclusive rights of the patent in order to mass produce them. If you would like, I will offer them to you and you alone. How would you like to be two of the only three people in the world to have access?"

Flynn's eyebrows went up. Forget going for the gold medal; the Duke was planting his flag in the diamond mine. Sure enough, the twins ate it up.

"I'm afraid it will be a little expensive though. You understand, of course."

"Of course, and it won't be a problem at all! We have something that can pay any expenses right here with us."

For the first time, the Duke was surprised. Then Roksar stepped forward to present the very same ornate box that Flynn been eyeing earlier. His instincts had told him that whatever was in that box could offer the opportunity to humiliate the twins. And so, he carefully watched from the sidelines with great anticipation as the giant man opened the lid of the box to reveal…. two of the most dazzling red rubies that Flynn had ever seen, each the size of a man's fist.

"These are the Stars of Aldera, named after our capital and the most valuable gems in our kingdom. Identical, yet still one of a kind, much like ourselves in fact."

Flynn tuned out the rest of the conversation. Just like with the Lucrenda painting and the Alde sculptures, the master thief had long since mastered the craft of determining the value of jewels, artwork and other items of significant worth. Even from a distance, he could tell that one could never put a price on those two rubies. They were certainly worth far more than whatever contract the Duke could offer them!

 _Yep, this is the problem with relying on a royal's greed and stupidity;_ it works.

Still, as he watched one of the Duke's bodyguards take the box and left the ballroom with them, an idea began to form. He had trusted his instincts and they had rewarded him once again in more ways than one. If those gems were to mysteriously go _missing_ , the King of the Southern Isles would be furious with the twins, both for losing their prized rubies and a valuable contract. Flynn smiled as he remembered the servant the twins had abused earlier and the innocent homeless man they had arrested the other day. _Oh, losing those rubies would certainly earn them the punishment they deserve._

However, just as he was about to follow the bodyguard carrying the box, Flynn noticed the unsettling way how the Duke had turned and narrowed his eyes to slits at someone else in the room. He followed the Duke's gaze to… _oh, that's not good_. It was the attractive dancer, Opal.

The box of rubies was forgotten as he discreetly followed the Duke, making sure to avoid the sharp eye of the remaining bodyguard. He sure hoped that she had not been seen stealing.

"Orla," the Duke said sternly.

She froze at the Duke's voice, hands starting to shake and face draining of color as she caught sight of him. It was clear how afraid she was of him, even with the man being almost two feet shorter than her.

"It's Opal, your gr-"

" _Don't_ correct me," he interrupted severely. "Especially not after the news I have received."

The dancer tensed, and Flynn could tell she was doing everything in her power not to glance at the sleeve concealing the gold flatware she lifted.

"W-what news have you heard?"

Gone was the polite businessman that traded pleasant words with the Southern Isle twins, now there was only the derision of a lord who was extremely displeased.

"Stadfeltt refuses to pay his debt to me. I'm afraid this brings up the mite issue of your contract, since he offered yours up as collateral," the Duke said as he smugly presented a folded piece of paper before slipping it into his coat pocket. "I'll be forced to add several stipulations to your services."

Opal's eyes widened in shock, her fear of having been caught stealing now replaced by the dread of something equally terrifying.

"He… he what? _Collateral?_ What kind of stipulations?"

"All in good time, my dear, all in good time," the Duke smiled as another servant handed him an impeccably white cup of earl grey tea with a pinch of cream. "But in short, your contract is now mine to do with as I see necessary."

"I've been working here for four years already!" The woman was already in tears, which only made the Duke roll his eyes. "Seventeen hour shifts, you hardly ever allow me to go home and you barely even pay me!"

The Duke idly stirred his tea, looking bored and disinterested. "You are paid as much as you are _worth_. But that's hardly relevant. As I have made clear, you belong to my house now, and you belong to _me_."

"No… no, you can't do this to me! I can't keep living like this! I won't do it anymore!"

The Duke scoffed at Opal. "Such entitlement from one born with nothing to their name. No family name, no holdings, no power. This is not a negotiation nor even an offer of your choice; I am simply informing you of my decision. Remember your place."

"That's just it! I _do_ know what my place is!"

The Duke simply sipped his tea before handing it off to the other servant. "That's quite enough. It's already done, Orsa."

"My name is _Opal_!"

The Duke ignored her completely and continued talking.

"These are difficult times, and conditions have changed. I will need to extend the length of your indebted service. Perhaps even indefinitely."

Flynn did his best not to sneer. The self-serving tone, the languid arrogance, the subtle accent of contempt. It made his blood boil. _When you steal from the rich, it's criminal. When you steal from the poor, it's_ capitalism.

He was growing more and more tempted to intervene somehow. Even the hawk in his mind was looking for possible avenues to take. It may not have been any of his business, but Flynn had a bad habit of getting into things that weren't his business. But he also had to maintain his cover, and directly interacting with the Duke could have serious consequences. Still, he knew what it was like to live in squalor under the corruption, the graft, the outright theft those in power committed because they thought their positions made them immune from judgment. He wasn't sure he could stand seeing someone else subjugated in such a similar manner for much longer. In fact, was she not like him? It was clear that she didn't take that gold flatware out of greed, but out of hunger and desperation. Just like him from so many years ago, she didn't have much of a choice. Instead, she knew her own worth.

"It's _my_ work that has helped you! I'm owed the right to make decisions about what I do!"

"Now, now," the man said, voice oily and smooth and placating. "Don't think you know better than I. You're a _woman_ , what makes you think you know anything?"

Alright, _that does it!_

Flynn set his glass down hard and started marching over to the pair. The frustration that had been slowly building up from having to listen to a room full of some of the worst of the nobility had finally boiled over. He had had enough!

Flynn also knew how many often explained how the one rule of living on the street worked in the more impoverished kingdoms, and not just any street but _every_ street. Which meant the only rule was that you never saw anything, you never do anything and you were never there. No one looked out for anyone because no one was going to look out for you.

That was the rule… except Flynn Rider never followed rules. And he certainly never cared for the rule of submitting before someone because they thought themselves superior to you. You cannot fear someone you don't respect. He only bowed to someone about once in _never_. Flynn Rider bowed to **_no one._**

 **~o~O~o~**

The Duke's bodyguard, along with the second one who just returned from wherever he took the box, carefully eyed the noble that was approaching their charge.

 _And so here it is_ , he thought. _At last, Flynn Rider meets the Duke of Weselton._

With a plan in motion, the thief stepped up until he was several paces behind the Duke's back, swallowed the bile in his throat and spoke up in the high-class tone he had been using all evening. "Your grace."

The man didn't even turn around.

"Whoever you are, I trust you justify your intrusion upon my valuable time with something of _profound_ value," he sighed with the most incredibly loud drama.

Flynn blinked before hiding his smirk. "Well. _Rude_. I am Count Mathis Gladstone of _Glowerhaven_."

Glowerhaven. A representative of the Alliance!

The Duke blanched before he spun around so fast his glasses nearly flew off.

"Ah! A pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Gladstone!" It was like a switch had been flipped. "My deepest apologies for my earlier tone, I had no idea that you would be here!" the Duke rushed to greet politely, his voice the silky, practiced cadence of a noble and politician.

Flynn shrugged. "Let's just say that I intended my visit to be a _surprise_ …"

"Well nevertheless, I am delighted and _honored_ to have a delegate of the kingdom of Glowerhaven accept my invitation!"

Flynn Rider had seen many surprises in his adventures, both astonishing and shocking, but even he did not expect what happened next. The Duke snapped his heels together, extending a hand out to the count as he bowed in respect low at the hips. The act caused his 'hair' to peel off the top of his head and reveal a very prominent and shiny bald spot to the thief.

In all his years, Flynn had _never_ faced a greater challenge in his life than trying not to laugh out loud at the sight. _You're a noble of Glowerhaven, you're a noble of Glowerhaven, you're a noble of Glowerhaven!_

Even Opal was now struggling to keep a straight face.

Flynn thanked whatever deities were listening when the man righted himself back up, his hair flipping back into place on his head and without him seeming to be the wiser. Of course, now he was faced with the challenge of not laughing now that he could see the Duke of _Nasal_ town's nose up close! It made him look like a bird!

Flynn wasn't entirely sure what to make of the man, feeling his bewilderment from when he first saw the Duke earlier coming back. Was this really the same man he saw a few minutes ago? When he wasn't quelling or threatening someone like Opal, it was actually rather hard to take this tiny, underwhelming man seriously, especially with that giant nose and fake set of hair flopping about like a wet towel.

" _Ahem!_ Yes, um, your invitation!" Flynn recovered. "Well, a few of my, uh, people, had been talking at great lengths about the festivities that were being prepared this evening, and when I also heard about how many other important representatives were here, I decided to finally see for myself."

"Ah, so you _have_ heard of me before, Gladstone?" _I most certainly have and I'm sick of it._

"Indeed, your grace. Now, this party of yours! I must say that you have great taste!" _More like great nostrils._

To his surprise, the Duke looked rather embarrassed. "There is no need to be so overly generous with your words, Gladstone. An old rival of mine in the royal courts thinks overmuch of himself and has spent years now blocking my efforts to obtain better living conditions for my esteemed person. I've had to suffer these cramped quarters the entire time I've resided here in Weselton, when I deserve so much better after the contributions and sacrifices I've made."

 _Did he say cramped?_

Flynn looked around at the yawning ballroom surrounding them, with their multiple floors, lush carpets, and those priceless works of art loomed wherever one looked. He turned back and shook his head at him, "Yes, I'm sure it's been rough."

Opal lowered her head to hide her smirking grin. She was starting to like this particular noble.

"Well, if things work out during the summer when I go to meet with the future Queen of Arendelle, you may be looking at the next _Grand Duke_ of Weselton," puffed the mustached man, trying to impress the Glowerhaven 'count'. "A title far more befitting a man of my stature, wouldn't you think?"

 _Oh, yes. You're a towering figure. Obviously._ _Who knew that such tiny shoulders could carry such a big head?_

"Do you now?" Flynn questioned. "You must have come a long way then, and everyone needs to start somewhere."

The Duke nodded, understanding that a representative of the Alliance wanted to see his worth and value from how he first began, which was exactly the misdirection Flynn wanted. _Get them to talk about themselves instead of trying to figure_ you _out._

"Well, after my dear wife left me everything, _bless her heart_ , my first real opportunity came around almost twenty years ago. You see, the kingdom of Corona was once the greatest supplier of food and agriculture in all the lands. Yet after the king and queen's daughter and heir to the throne went missing, Corona seemed to just fall into decline. Their economy began to show signs of recession, and for whatever reason, their supply of crops and other tradable goods deteriorated. Even more tragically, King Frederic and his wife seem to remain rather upset about the whole thing.

I, on the other hand, was willing to step forward and humbly pick up the slack for them. I offered them several lucrative contracts and trade agreements to bolster their economy while I would manage the bulk of their trade services for them. Still, the king keeps trying to remind me in his letters that this is all only temporary. That their obligations to me will only last until their dear daughter, their 'Lost Princess', returns of course, and they are ready to handle themselves on their own again. Hmph, as if that will ever happen. Regardless, I still remain as Corona's humble caretaker."

Flynn wasn't fooled. From what he just heard, the Duke of _Nasal_ town had the trade and finances of Corona in his clutches and it would continue to last until a certain condition, the return of a missing child, was met. Unless such a miracle were to happen, his hold over Corona would remain strong. The true side of the Duke was finally showing itself. In the tiny man's eyes, Flynn saw greed, satisfaction, arrogance, contempt, anticipation, laziness and opportunity. The Lord of Weselton turned a blind eye to his part in the commoner's incipient suffering, a privilege that came with never really having suffered.

"You truly think that such measures are really necessary… Your Grace?" He tried not ground out that last part.

The Duke frowned. "Of course they are, especially in these times. Lord Gladstone, I apologize for the impression I might have given you during my little speech, but the pirate attacks I mentioned are a tad bit worse than I had implied. It simply wouldn't do for the great movers in this room to start fretting and make irrational decisions. But shouldn't you already know this? I hear that most of the attacks seem to be concentrated within Alliance waters."

"I, uh, usually leave those details to my assistant."

"Ah, well then it's fortunate you came to me. The pirate attacks are going rather poorly for us, worse than is generally known. We normally see these scoundrels and vagabonds come and go, surging up during a season of good weather or in the middle of a new frenzy of trade shipments, and then dying down as they are either captured or simply just settle down with their ill-gotten spoils. But this time is different. They keep taking ship after ship, and there's no sign of that momentum slowing down. They seem far more organized, and even stranger is how their modus operandi seems to have changed. No ransoms, no demands and no survivors. But the worst part is how the goods and money taken from those ships are never seen again. There's no trace to be found. Either they sink the goods along with the ships that carried them, or they keep the wealth without ever spending it."

Flynn was suddenly quiet. He wasn't sure why the details of the unusual pirate activity sent a foreboding chill down his spine. He didn't know what it was, but for some reason his inner hawk suddenly felt tense, telling him there was something very wrong with such strange behavior. Something underneath it felt off, like the subtle tremor in a breeze that warned an experienced sea captain that a storm was coming.

"None of it makes any sense," the Duke continued. "It's a complete mystery, and the trading and shipping companies don't like mysteries. Not as many people are as willing to invest in trade as heavily as we need to keep our lives running as normally."

The feeling faded as Flynn reminded himself why he was here. Now that he had a few more details, he could see the picture more clearly. The recent increase in pirate activity had been bad for business, obviously. But not wanting to diminish their excessively lavish lifestyles, the Duke and the rest of the Weselton nobility sought a way to make up for their losses. Therefore, they turned to the populace to ease their 'burden' by passing new regulations to increasing the taxes as well dumping most of the debt on the lower class. No wonder why the people of the city were going through such hard times.

Then there was this party. Most of the common people had to ration what little food and money they had six months in advance as if they were preparing for a year-long winter. The cost of the party was astronomical and while the Duke still paid for some of the finer and more expensive things (to impress the local lords with his own wealth), he still levied most of the fees to the commoner's debts and taxes to him.

And here the Duke stood before him, living in the largest mansion Flynn had ever seen which demonstrated how completely unaffected he was by the poverty and suffering of the outer districts. He stood confidently and at ease, believing nothing could touch him.

 _'When men like him represent the law, then I'm proud to be an outlaw,'_ Flynn reminded himself with a smile.

The Duke, however, misinterpreted his smile as something entirely different.

"That's right, we shouldn't have reason to worry for much longer, Gladstone. After all, we will always be cared for, and I am a man that takes this sentiment quite seriously. A man who is very generous to his _friends_ ," the Duke hinted not-so-subtly at a possible partnership.

"Oh, are you certain about that?" Flynn still had to ask. "I've seen the other districts of your city, and it does not look like everyone might agree."

"Is this some form of protestant piety of the Alliance that I am not familiar with? You shouldn't always think too much of the peasants, they will receive what they are worth. I am the Duke of Weselton. Concern of those beneath me is unbecoming of a person of my rank. I have more important things to do than their constant whining and complaints."

"Giving the people more jobs, and perhaps extra food, would help a lot with that."

The Duke blinked owlishly behind his spectacles. "Food? These are difficult times. Our noble blood makes us the experts in running society. _W_ _e_ need the food, the people can eat _grass_."

Flynn wondered for many weeks where he found the willpower to keep the reaction from his entire body limited to a simple eyebrow twitch, as even his inner hawk seemed to screech in outrage. Instead, he mentally offered the Duke _many_ impolite words.

 _When I'm through tonight, you'll be so stricken with woe and disaster that your bird face is going to look like a_ constipated owl _, you life-sucking midget!_

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that even Opal was trembling with barely contained ire.

The Duke continued on, blissfully unaware of the schemes flying through Flynn's mind of how to ruin the dwarf of a man. "But enough of that now, as we have much to discuss! I can promise you Lord Gladstone, I have much to offer you. I would be glad to help the Alliance just as I have helped Corona in its hour of need. Tell me, what's your opinion of the new military and trade contract King Eric offered to Glowerhaven and the other kingdoms? Or perhaps of the sanctions placed by King Willard on incoming shipments from my harbors?"

Flynn's silent ire with the man was suddenly replaced with alarm. _He's talking business already? Oh hell no. No. Abort, abort, abort—_

"Ah, your grace? I've had a rather emotional and trying week. While I am certainly interested in what you can offer me, I would like to first take some time to relax and enjoy myself in this most magnificent party. Afterwards, I will be more than happy to discuss the details of an arrangement."

 _One of the most important rules of conning someone? Never directly offer them what they want most, give them the_ opportunity _to get what they want most._

He could easily see the gears turning in the Duke's head. Allowing 'Count Gladstone' to put off business for pleasure and further enjoy the festivities that _he_ offered would put the foreign noble in a better and more reasonable mood, if not inebriated as well. Psychologically, the Duke had offered him a special privilege and the Count, however slight, would be in his debt. From what Flynn had seen with the Southern Isles twins and Opal, the Duke _relished_ having people in his debt.

 _That's right, let him think he's in control. Nothing like letting them think they have the advantage while you make off with the real prize._

He didn't regret his decision to step in on Opal's behalf, but Flynn knew he had taken a major risk in deviating from the plan and directly approaching the Duke. Now he needed to slip out of his personal attention.

"That won't be a problem, Lord Gladstone!" the Duke brightly answered. "The night is still young, there's no rush. Feel free to indulge yourself to your heart's content, my treat! Just like I provide for everyone else here!"

Flynn smiled with a perfectly fake look of immense gratitude to a man of immense power. His acting was superb.

"In fact…" A gleam appeared in the Duke's eyes as he glanced to the side at Opal. "I'll do one better, just for you! Oscilla, make sure to give Lord Gladstone your company for the rest of the evening."

The dancer recoiled at the implication as though she had been kicked by a horse, a look of horror flashing across her face.

Flynn was no less appalled, and this time it was no act when his eyes flared. Contrary to what some might think, he did _not_ see women as some prize to be won. In all his escapades with the fairer sex, Flynn had discovered that some of the greatest pleasures and joy were found with women. Not as a prize or a trophy, but as a true _treasure_. And like any worthwhile treasure, it was something to be appropriately cherished and appreciated with the care and respect it deserved. And certainly _not_ something to be sold or offered up like some _business transaction!_

"You listen here, _your grace._ I don't know what kind of person you think I am, but I do _not_ treat women like that and I can promise that neither does the Alliance force any woman to do so! If you… think… that…"

Flynn trailed off as he saw the look of genuine confusion on the Duke's face. The tiny man then glanced over at Opal and looked her up and down as if looking for something that he missed.

"Gladstone, I'm afraid I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

Flynn stared blankly at him. The dancer had a gifted figure that could make even a man of advanced age flush. Flynn had also noticed that even some of the other _women_ in the room had a hard time not undressing Opal with their eyes. Yet as he watched the Duke look Opal's frame over just now, he saw… nothing. There was no sign of desire, arousal or any of that form of interest a normal man would have in a woman. Did he really not see her? Was there something wrong with his glasses?

Something in the back of Flynn's mind suddenly clicked as he remembered how the Duke had married three times yet never had any children of his own. He had only married for wealth and influence, not for love or desire for a family. Flynn finally understood. The Duke didn't care about women, he didn't even see them that way. It didn't even occur to him have them to lift up their skirts for other nobles. The only thing that interested the Duke was money.

Flynn didn't know whether to be relieved or disturbed at such a revelation. It took a very specific kind of elitist mind to rewrite its own perception to not see women as an object of desire.

"I… never mind." _I wonder if he's still a virgin?_

The Duke still looked confused, his large mustache scrunched up in puzzlement. Then he simply shrugged. "Well, no matter then. As I said Oprella, make sure Lord Gladstone remains entertained tonight. See to it that Weselton hospitality remains second to none!"

At that moment, the ballroom musicians switched to a new piece of classical music that had a presto tempo. The Duke suddenly perked up at the sound.

"Oh! If you'll excuse me Lord Gladstone, they're playing my favorite song and the dancefloor is calling my name!"

Flynn blinked in surprise. "You… dance?"

The Duke snapped his heels together. "Absolutely, one of the best! I'm sometimes known in court as the _Little Dipper_! Out on the dance floor, my feet carry me like an agile peacock!"

With that, he put his hands behind his back while he began _hopping_ his way to the dance floor. Flynn's earlier bewilderment resurfaced as he watched in stunned silence as the tiny man's toupee flopped up and down with every skip in his step.

He was strangely reminded of his old caretaker Astella's cuckoo clock. _One would think that by his idea of 'dancing' the Duke must be a big fan of looking like an idiot. Wait a minute… is he wearing_ heels?! _I don't even…_

Regardless, he was finally away from the Duke of _Nasal_ town. And he was now left alone with Opal, who didn't go anywhere as per the Duke's orders. She still didn't look happy about it. Who would be?

 **~o~O~o~**

"Opal, wasn't it?"

Opal's wary eyes snapped to him, face closed off, guarded. The man had remembered her real name. But while he seemed more sympathetic during his conversation with her employer, she had been disappointed by the nobility before.

"You've been here for a while, right? Tell me, is stupidity common around here?"

The guarded look on Opal's face slipped. "… What?"

"Why else do you think the people around here in act like everyone is supposed to act as they expect. Heh, they probably have a rulebook." He paused before turning to the dancer as if considering. "They _do_ have a rulebook, don't they? _Admit it_."

Opal's full lips twitched in a flickering smile. She had heard plenty about the 'handsome lord' from the other girls who just couldn't seem to stop gushing about him. Well, he was certainly far cuter than she had expected and was already more pleasant to talk with. She hadn't been happy with the idea of the Duke offering her up to Lord Gladstone, but as she eyed the appealing turn of his strong shoulders, she found herself wondering if he might be worth it…

"Well, the Duke certainly spared no expense," the man carried on, seemingly oblivious as Opal looked him over. "Even the smallest of things here is worth more than what most people would see in a year. So how much do you think a few pieces of _gold flatware_ are worth?"

Opal's world suddenly felt like it had been struck with a blacksmith's hammer. "E-excuse me, milord?"

"Word of advice? Don't say 'excuse me', it makes you sound guilty."

"I-I don't… Are you… There's not…"

"There's not what? Not anything up your sleeve?"

Opal's hand snapped to her right sleeve, then her face turned to an unnatural shade of white as she realized her mistake. She was caught, and her life was over.

"Hey, relax. You're not in trouble. You would also do a better job if you take them along with some food and a dinner plate, like you're about to bring some appetizers to someone. No one would look twice at a simple servant doing their job."

The dancer's terrified trembling slowly subsided as she calmed down, almost ready to cry tears of relief at the count's apparent amnesty. "You won't… I… oh, thank you! I'm so sorry, but I just can't make enough to take care of myself anymore. I don't mean to bother you with my problems, milord, but—"

"Please, you don't have to call me that. As you can probably tell, I'm not real big on all the formalities, let alone how they seem to do their business in this city. Looking down on the lower classes and caring so much about their fancy titles. 'Look at me, I'm so important so you have to drop everything and kiss my shoes because I'm so pompous' blah blah blah."

Opal had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter, suddenly smiling more than she had in weeks. " _Pffft!_ My lord, please! Don't let anyone hear you!"

"Hey, I'm from the Alliance, remember? No one will dare to accost the one person the Duke wants to do business with more than anyone else."

A flicker of worry appeared in her blue eyes. "Take it from me, my lo- _Gladstone_. From your conversation, forgive me for overhearing, I can tell you don't care for the Duke's policies. He is not someone you want to do business with. You heard it from the man himself; he doesn't care who else gets hurt, noble birth or not, as long as he makes a profit."

The count smirked as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He has far less power over me than he might ever realize. Trust me, I know how to take care of myself."

Opal wasn't sure whether it was the certainty in his voice or the faint blush of hers caused by Gladstone's physical contact, but she found herself believing him. Without thinking, she put her own hand on his, as if hoping it would spread some of that confidence to her. But as she did, something felt off. Curious, she gently lifted his hand up and looked more closely at it.

The skin of his palm was sturdy and tough. It was the hand of a hard-worker, not the dainty hand of a comfy noble. Opal's eyes slowly drifted to the man as a sneaking suspicion wormed its way into her mind. "Lord Gladstone… how were you able to tell I took some of the flatware?"

The man was silent for a moment before he simply smiled. He seemed impressed.

"Well, you know what they say. It takes one to know one."

After a brief sweeping glance to make sure no one else was looking, he slyly opened the left side of his overcoat to reveal hidden pockets filled to the brim with gold coins and sparkling jewelry.

Opal gasped audibly at the sight, eyes wide with disbelief as she clamped her hands over her mouth. She couldn't believe it, he had so much! It had taken all her courage and desperation just to sneak a few flatware pieces. And here before her stood a man who was clearly not afraid of the nobility and yet boldly dressed himself up as one, talked with lords, royalty and even the Duke without fear, and audaciously took so much of their wealth off their very person with such ease and skill!

"W-who _are_ you?"

He smiled once again as he leaned in close to whisper in her ear. "The name's Rider. Flynn Rider."

Opal froze. That name… no, it couldn't be. How could it be _him?_ _Here?_ Talking to _her?_ The legendary thief who dared to defy kingdoms and empires, stole royal fortunes and had slipped through the fingers of every soldier, mercenary, spy and bounty hunter ever sent after him?

The man in question chuckled at her wide-eyed stunned expression, easily guessing the questions she had. "Who else could walk in here and do what I have done?"

"You… it's you… you really steal from people?"

Flynn's left eye twitched. "Now don't get the wrong idea there, I am _not_ like the people in this room. Yes, I steal. But I take what I need from those who have more than enough, I don't stand on the shoulders of people with less. And I'm certainly not anything like the Duke of _Nasal_ town."

Opal sputtered at the ridiculous name, trying not to laugh in the middle of a ballroom. "I can see that, your nose isn't as big."

Flynn didn't miss a beat at the quip. "Don't worry! The size of my nose has nothing to do with the size of my other parts."

She couldn't help it. Her gaze immediately glanced down between his legs, right before her head snapped away as she blushed furiously, her imagination taking her to fantasies she would never share with another living soul. She tried her best to pass it off nonchalantly.

"Ah yes, well, I… I still can't believe it… you've fooled everyone! The Duke, the guards… you are a true master of disguise!"

"Hardly. There's no such thing as a master of disguise. If there was, I'd _be_ one. In the meantime," Flynn said with his charming smile. "There's one prize left I need to find, and I could use your help."

As if remembering where they were, Opal's eyes started darting back and forth wildly all over the room, as if afraid the entire city garrison of soldiers would suddenly come marching through the door and demand their arrest. Looking back to him, it dawned on her.

"You intend to take something from the Duke himself," she said hesitantly. "Aren't you?"

"Oh, you make it sound like I'm committing _treason_ ," he said casually. "Would it sound better if I said I'll be stealing from an _ass_?"

Opal wasn't sure how many more times she could keep herself from laughing. This man, _Flynn Rider_ , had made her smile more times in a few minutes than she had in months. But the risks were still ever-present, and she didn't have the confidence Rider did. It took all her courage just to slip a handful of flatware, but this was something on a whole other level.

He gently thumbed her chin for good measure to help soothe her anxiety. She clearly never imagined it possible to rebel against the nobility in such a way. He just needed to coax out the courage he had seen from her against the Duke.

"Danger doesn't scare me," he said. "Besides, my motto is to _always_ expect trouble… and failing that, cause trouble for someone else."

The dancer smiled again. His eyes held a conviction that made Opal's heart twitch in longing. But even so, she wasn't sure. "I don't know what help I could be to someone as capable as you."

Her eyes were almost broken. She was frightened of the nobility and also slightly daunted by him. Sighing in sympathy, Flynn looked back at the Duke, who was prancing about like a game of leapfrog on the dancefloor, oblivious to the shock and hidden amusement of the other nobles. Then he suddenly remembered.

 _"Stadfeltt refuses to pay his debt to me. I'm afraid this brings up the mite issue of your contract, since he offered yours up as collateral," the Duke said as he smugly presented a folded piece of paper before slipping it into his coat pocket. "I'll be forced to add several stipulations to your services."_

If anything, Flynn was ashamed that he hadn't already thought of the idea the moment he saw it. "Did I mention there might be a way I could get you out of here?"

" _What?_ "

"You must always believe in yourself more. You must believe that you're stronger. The Duke is desperately eager to earn favor from an 'Alliance representative'. So eager that I might be able to convince him to give 'Count Gladstone' your employment contract. He would think you're employed in the kingdom of Glowerhaven, and therefore you could leave Weselton and be free of him. You could start over."

Even defensive as she was, Flynn could see her eyes dilate at the opportunity, her red lips pursing to prevent comment. Her chance was suddenly offered on a silver platter by a man with the reputation to get it. She wanted it, wanted the idea, but could not find the courage to trust it. He couldn't blame her, if her life had been so mistreated by the Duke.

Alright, it was time to bring out his ace in the hole, his _secret weapon_. One that he seldom ever had to use but it was the only way fast enough to get Opal to break through her worries. _Here comes… the_ _ **Smolder**_ _._

Flynn squeezed his eyes shut, mentally apologizing to the beautiful dancer for what the reaction it would cause. And then he looked back up, pouring every drop of his legendary charm into the sweetest look in his melted-caramel eyes and the most adorable pout in his lips.

The effect was immediate. Opal's eyes went wide as she was completely overwhelmed, as though she went to cloud nine in no time flat. Her eyes took on a dreamy gaze as she exhaled sharply, followed by heavy breathing as she felt her blood rushing to _places_.

Then her stance began to waver. Flynn, accustomed to this reaction, skillfully caught her by the shoulder and gently shook her. Suffice to say, the power of the Smolder was enough to make any female swoon head over heels. Often times enough, they even had trouble standing. There had even been a few times where they actually fainted. Fortunately, this wasn't one of those times.

Flynn couldn't help but give a slightly goofy smile as he smoothly asked, "So, do you trust me to get the job done?"

Opal's lip was still quivering as she managed to right her footing. "You… you can really do that?"

Flynn nodded. "Listen, _gem_. You need to understand that even when you get treated like an animal, you can never let it stop you from being a person. After all, if you only do what you're expected to, like the nobles tell you to, then you'll never do anything surprising and you'll never _be_ anything surprising. Without surprises, you would be boring for your entire life and that is a most awful way to live. You're the one who chooses who you are, not the short mustache king over there on the dance floor."

His impromptu but impassioned words brought a true smile to Opal's face as it stirred something in her heart she never knew was there. It felt… exciting, like a leaf caught in a great wind. Looking back at Flynn, she began to feel a sense of anticipation rather than trepidation, as though something grand was approaching.

"Oh my god, I'm really going to do this, aren't I?"

"Would you regret it?

A spark appeared in Opal's eyes that she never had before. "… No. No, I wouldn't. My mother passed back when I was a little girl and my father was lost during one of the pirate attacks. I had to live with my Uncle Stadfeltt, who gambled and made risky investments all the time. Then when he made too many deals with the Duke, he offered me up as indentured service for his debts. Ever since then, the Duke has forced me to work for him for the past _four years_. You're right, I'm practically a slave. I'll do anything to get out, so what do you need?"

Flynn knew how she felt, living such a difficult life and not in control of your fate for a long time, only to finally realize what you were truly capable of and then make your own choices. Suffice to say, to find a kindred spirit in one with such a curvy body made him more than a little curious.

"That's the spirit!" Flynn commended. "Now, let's get to it. All I need before I talk to the Duke is two of the largest rubies you've ever seen. Are you familiar with those two Southern Isles princes over there?"

Opal almost sneered in disgust. "Yes, and I've made the effort to avoid them all evening. Tell me you've got a plan to put them in their place, give them a taste of their own medicine."

"A _taste?_ Gem, if we make off with their prized rubies, they'll be given the whole bottle."

Opal perked up as a thought struck her. "I think I know where they are! I've heard plenty of talk about the Duke's private collection, a private vault where he keeps his most valuable treasures all for himself!"

Flynn's eyes went wide with excitement. The Duke's personal collection?! _Ohhhh, that sounds promising._ If there's anywhere the Duke had his men put rubies like those away, it would be there.

"Really now? Do you know where it might be?"

"No, I was never told. He doesn't let anyone other than his bodyguards and his lieutenant near it. I doubt his bodyguards are willing to talk, but the lieutenant is quite a chatterbox. The man never stops talking, especially about himself."

With this latest information, Flynn knew what to do. Find this lieutenant, get him to tell where the private vault was, make off with the jackpot, get Opal's contract from the Duke and then walk off into the sunset! Simple! _Getting in will be easy, getting out should be fun._

"Alright then. Stay here and I'll be back for you soon, Gem. I promise."

"Just please be careful, Fl-Lord Gladstone. We could get into serious trouble!"

He just smiled. "Ah, but that's how you know it's an _adventure_."

As Flynn Rider walked off, Opal paused. He had called her 'Gem'. Given her name, she supposed it fit.

 **~o~O~o~**

Outside the front entrance of the Duke's mansion in the cool late night air, the admittance clerk was finally able to breathe easily.

It hadn't been easy juggling over nine dozen invitations. Make no mistake, the clerk considered it his greatest honor to serve the Duke of Weselton, especially by personally overseeing the admittance of whatever guests the Duke saw worthy to step within the halls of his own home. Therefore, he focused on his task with the greatest diligence. Nevertheless, he was inordinately grateful to whatever gods existed that it was finally over, as it still took considerable effort to remember each part of every single noble's names. By the skies and sea, many of the nobility had the _longest_ names. Even for those that did not have such a name, nearly all easily took offense if you got their illustrious name wrong. Still, he had managed to memorize each one and matched them to their faces. Now it was finally over and he could turn in for the night. He wouldn't have to worry about any more nobles for a long time.

So great was the clerk's relief as he was organizing the very last of his papers that he failed to notice a group of new arrivals.

The group dismounted, their horses getting taken away by practiced stable hands straight in complete silence. Not a single word was uttered, the only sound being a horse's occasional snort and clopping hoof. The servants were immensely surprised at the appearance riders' arrival, especially at this ungodly hour, but none of them dared speak at the sight of the rider's insignia and instead dutifully escorted the cloaked rider's mounts to the VIP stables.

The cloaked riders stood in another perfectly parallel formation as the lavish carriage they escorted arrived in the courtyard.

The clerk still didn't notice the arrival until the passenger of the carriage, protected by his experienced bodyguards, had approached. Even then, he didn't look up. However, he gave a small sigh of annoyance at having to handle yet another one.

"Whoever you are, I'm afraid that you're too late," he stated just short of a biting tone. "The hours of admittance to the Duke's party are long over, and _no exceptions_."

"I believe that you'll make one for me," answered a baritone yet amused voice.

The clerk snorted. "It doesn't matter what house you come from, all admissions are final. I don't care _who_ you are."

One of the cloaked bodyguards stepped forward to set the rude man straight, but his charge held a hand up.

"Well, I certainly care who I am: King Benjamin II of Glowerhaven _._ "

The clerk snapped up, looking straight at the visiting monarch that he had so brazenly and rudely spoken to. He could already feel the blood seeping from his face.

If he didn't find a way to fix this, he would be in a great deal of trouble.

* * *

 **Wow, it's good to be back! Sorry about the wait everyone, the last semester was rather uncooperative.**

 **And Flynn Rider demonstrates his charm and cunning as he navigates through the social elite and lifting their valuables without anyone the wiser. We finally take a deeper glimpse into the man he is, his sense of self-interest balanced with a heart of gold. He may indeed be in this adventure for himself, to seek prizes and thrills, but he won't turn a blind eye to those around him. He remembers where he came from, and will extend a hand to those like him. And now, the climax of his greatest heist is almost upon us, as he takes the next step for the ultimate opportunity tonight. But he best remain on his toes, as an unexpected arrival to this game can ruin everything. What will happen next?**

 **Disclaimer: The characters and events of Tangled and Frozen are owned by Disney. Credit for the Alliance and its member nations goes to DarkDragonFires12, my friend and partner in this story-verse. Credit for details on Arendelle goes to Piccolosky. Everything else is mine.**

 **As always, your comments, thoughts and constructive criticism is appreciated and welcomed. If you like it, favorite it! If you want to keep up and find out what happens next, follow it!**


	4. The Great Escape

**The Great Escape**

 _You will always remember this as the day that you_ almost _caught Captain Jack Sparrow!_

\- Captain Jack Sparrow

"Ah, you must be the distinguished noble from Glowerhaven I've been hearing about!" said the lieutenant as he eagerly reached out and shook Flynn's hand rather hard. "Lord Gladstone, it is a _pleasure_ to meet your illustrious person!"

The man was slightly overweight and wore a double-breasted burgundy suit with gold piping and buttons. But as he shook the thief's hand with a firm grip, Flynn could not get over the size of the man's mustache, it was even bigger than the Duke's! _Stop pointing that thing at me, it might go off!_

"Y-yes, it's an honor and all that, you can let go of my hand now! Thank you. Yes, it's a pleasure, mister…?"

"Weeznod! _Lieutenant_ Weeznod! At your service!"

 _Weeznod? Are you kidding me? Oh, of_ course _you are. And they call_ me _a criminal when this guy is assaulting us with that hair cut? Where does the Duke find these people?_

"I'll be with you in just a moment," the lieutenant said as he turned to a servant. "Waiter, I will have an aged bottle of Pinot Noir Red, mixed with one third of '45 Ménage à trois and one quarter of Mannovai Daybreak, with three pinches of salt stirred for eight seconds with the right hand before adding a single ice cube."

"… At once, sir."

Flynn blinked at the idea of such an absurd drink order. _Seriously? That's even more ridiculous than having those five different kinds of forks at the dinner table! I will never understand these people…_

"Ahem," the thief cleared his throat. "Well anyway, I hope you're enjoying the party as much as I am."

"Oh indeed! This shindig is the bomb-diggity!"

 _What?_

"Erm, right. The Duke has great taste, and I'm especially impressed by his art pieces. Now, I may have the utmost faith in your abilities since the Duke obviously trusts you, but I've come to you because I want to make sure that we are safe here. You never know where a thief or criminal might be lurking."

"Criminal? Here? Don't be absurd, Gladstone. I'd catch any crook that dares to set foot in Weselton! Why, only a few days ago, I single-handedly cracked a massive underground gambling ring that had eluded the police for months! We made quite a few arrests on that proud day! Although, it was rather strange. Apparently, some newcomer showed up and cleaned everyone out before we ever got there. We're still trying to find him. Hmph, _gamblin_ g. What a truly despicable practice."

Flynn quickly lifted his wine glass to his mouth to hide his grin. "Oh yes, completely despicable."

 **~o~O~o~**

 _One week ago…_

 _Flynn laid his cards out before the horrified dealer._

 _"Ha! Straight flush! I win again! Say, did you mention something about the Duke hosting a party later this week?"_

 **~o~O~o~**

The thief/card master smiled. Now _that_ was a fun day. And Mr. Weeznod here had no idea that the culprit was standing within arm's length.

"The Duke is sure to recognize my worth soon enough, and I'll receive the promotion I am so rightfully due. Then I will be _Captain_ Weeznod! The men will certainly respect me then!"

"Don't worry my good fellow," Flynn reassured him, fighting an uphill battle to talk with a straight face. "Your worth is clear, and I will never understand why the Duke doesn't see it. But you're a captain in my eyes."

 _Your name is_ Weeznod! No one _is going to respect you!_

"And I certainly feel more at ease knowing that we are protected here by you on this fine night. And there's so much to see here. Like those Alde sculptures over there! I cannot imagine the resources and influence the Duke must have to possess pieces such as those! They have to be the most valuable specimens here, there's no way that he could possibly have anything more surprising than those."

 _Take the bait, take the bait—_

"Oh, even those are nothing compared to his private collection!"

 _Gotcha._ "Truly?"

"Most right, my good man! You cannot even imagine what he has in there, and I am one of the few trusted men with access!"

"Really? Oh, how I wish I could see that! But perhaps I can settle for the next best thing. I'm sure there's plenty else around this magnificent house," Flynn hinted with a playfully conspiratory smile. "You wouldn't happen to be important enough to give me a tour, would you?"

 _Use his pride of his station, this man wants to feel important._

"Oh, I'm sure we can work something out."

 _This poor guy is too easy, he's the perfect mark. He'll be so focused on his role that he won't notice for some time that I've slipped away and—_

"Sadly, I cannot leave my post too easily and I have a routine patrol soon. I'm afraid that I cannot escort you on the tour."

"Oh… a shame indeed." _Best. News. Ever!_

"The doors to the main corridors are right over there," he pointed over his shoulder. "Oh, and if you run into any of the guards, simply speak the passcode 'Golden Fountain' and they'll let you right by."

Flynn's composure nearly slipped at what just fell into his lap. That just made his work far easier. "Um, wow. Thank you."

Then Weeznod handed him a scroll. "And here is a map of the mansion just in case."

There were times where even Flynn couldn't believe his good fortune.

 _You… you can't be serious. Just like that? Is this actually happening? Did one of the guards just hand me a_ _ **map**_ _that also tells you exactly where the treasure is? That's like saying 'the cookie jar is open, help yourself'. Yeah, money NOT well spent._

"You have my thanks," he said sincerely. "You have no idea how helpful this is."

"It was my pleasure! Enjoy yourself tonight!"

And with that, the large lieutenant proudly marched off, leaving Flynn still unable to believe his good fortune. _Well, like I said, fortune favors the bold._

But just before he slipped out through the sidedoor, Flynn paused and looked back out at the large crowd of the upper-class nobles.

 _Just look at everything that the Duke has built for himself over the decades, and I have a plan to have him lose it all in one night. Soon he'll be robbed blind, by the world's greatest lover. It's finally time to start some trouble!_

Fortune did indeed favor the bold, but it had always taken a special liking to Flynn Rider. He never knew where it came from or what he even did to earn it. Did the gods of fate approve of his chosen path in life, or was Lady Luck perhaps smitten with him and blessed him with all the good fortune she could offer in the hope he might pay her a visit?

Regardless, on this night the powers of fortune and luck were especially kind to him. If Flynn had stayed even a few seconds longer before slipping out through the door, his plans could have easily met with disaster.

A courier rushed up to the presenter and whispered something in his ear. The man's eyes bulged as he started ringing the brass bell almost frantically. As before, the music and chatter of the room quickly fell silent as everyone turned their gaze to him.

"Your attention once more, milords! We seem to have an unexpected but honored guest! Presenting His Royal Majesty of Glowerhaven of the Alliance… King Benjamin the Second!"

A swell of gasps and murmurs swept across the room as the monarch of Glowerhaven stepped through the grand double doors. To say that this was a surprise was the understatement of the year. It was already a shock when a mere count had arrived from the Alliance, but one of its member kings? It was unprecedented!

As things slowly settled down and returned to normal, Benjamin greeted one of the other guests.

"Prince Waldstein, it's good to see you! How is your father faring these days?"

"King Ben!" the Albion prince smiled. "I didn't expect to see you here! And father is quite well, he managed to bring in a rather large wild boar from his last hunting trip! He's been doing quite well for his age!"

Benjamin chuckled. "He always was an excellent marksman with that crossbow, he once boasted how he would find a way to enter our Tournament of Champ—"

"Your Majesty, what an unexpected surprise!"

King Ben of Glowerhaven, or Ben as he preferred to be called, was normally a very cheerful and fair man. His jolly personality, generous nature, and love of children had long since earned him the nickname 'Good King Ben'. He was beloved by his people, and many of the children of his kingdom even compared him to Father Christmas. The comparison always flattered him.

But his jolly expression immediately soured like he had swallowed a lemon as soon as the thin voice of the Duke reached his ears. Slowly, he turned to meet the host of the grand ball, while Prince Waldstein wisely backed away. As he beheld the Duke, he idly wondered if the dwarf of a man had gotten even _shorter_ since their last meeting.

"King Ben, it has been far too long!"

"No, it hasn't," he answered flatly. "And only friends may call me that. You, however, will call me King Benjamin or simply Majesty."

The Duke looked as though he had been slapped, before quickly backtracking. Forget the mere count he had spoken with earlier, this was one of the Alliance's four monarchs. Directly upsetting one face-to-face could set him back years, both in finances and in reputation, and that was the last thing the Duke wanted. He would have to be careful here.

"Y-your majesty, I apologize if I seemed too candid. If I may ask, how are the other members of the Alliance?"

"King Gerrod has nothing to say to you," Ben answered bluntly. "King Willard is still in mourning over the loss of his only son and refuses to speak with anyone, even his own advisors. As for King Eric, Ariel and their daughter, they have their hands full with… private matters."

The Duke knew from experience that he wouldn't hear any more about King Eric and his kingdom of Seahaven. As friendly and hospitable as they were to outsiders, the only kingdom that was even more secretive about family was Arendelle itself.

"Well, I am sorry to hear that. The pirate attacks must be more stressful for them than I thought."

King Ben wasn't fooled. The Duke was trying to fish for more information. Well, he would not have it and he didn't want to spend any more time here than strictly necessary.

"How about we cut straight to the chase? The Alliance knows very well what you're really up to with this 'party' of yours."

The Duke was one of the shrewdest negotiators in the realm, but the flash of unease on his face was clear to see. He had been caught in something rather implicating.

"Do you think our eyes blind and our ears deaf? You think we don't know what you're doing here?" King Ben's voice gradually grew lower and lower. "Well, I can tell you that they are not, and our tongues are not silent either! The Alliance is not made of ignorant fools. You're trying to weasel our allies and supporters away from us to your _own_ banner."

The Duke blanched and swallowed nervously. "That… that is simply not true, your majesty! I am simply doing my part to keep everything together, to keep the gears of society running properly!"

King Ben frowned. The man was far more greedy and self-conceited than King Willard, but far less competent at hiding it. Even worse, at least King Willard knew how to properly tend to his people's needs just enough while the Duke barely even scratched the stark minimum.

"And you just happen to gather so many major figures of influence when trade is not going as well for us as usual? You didn't fund this party from simple pocket change, you dug it straight out of a gold mine. You've pulled out every trick you know to impress the rest of the nobility by making offers and demonstrate your wealth and power, trying to present yourself as the 'better option'. Well, I've come here in person to tell you the Alliance will not stand for it. You're treading on thin ice as it is with such a gutsy move, and I'm not so sure _any_ of us will be so grateful to you once this all blows over."

"I-I don't understand, y-y-your majesty." The Duke's composure was quickly starting to slip, beads of sweat forming on his brow. He was rapidly losing ground and couldn't afford to lose any face on this night of all nights. He desperately tried to salvage the situation. "I... I don't know how exaggerated the reports you've been reading are, but we can come to a proper understanding. Besides, I was just speaking with your vassal Count Gladstone only moments ago and he informed me that Glowerhaven was willing to discuss new business deals!"

For the first time tonight, King Ben looked confused. "Count Mathis Gladstone is here?" He had been under the impression that his old friend was adamantly against the very idea of attending 'anything hosted by that weasel man', and he was quite vocal about his decision. Did he suddenly change his mind, and if so why? Or could it be that his vassal was thinking of jumping ship like others?

That did not improve his opinion of the Duke.

From the sidelines, Opal watched with worry. Flynn's cover could easily be exposed any minute. She prayed that he was almost done…

 **~o~O~o~**

Flynn _hated_ mazes.

This was the problem with a ridiculously rich Duke wanting a massive mansion for no other reason than to show off. Even the best architects had no idea what to do with all the extra space other than filling them with redundant corridors and pointless hallways.

"I hate mazes. Let me tell you guys something: I am not a minotaur," he muttered conversationally. "I don't spend my weekends in a hedge-maze waiting to kill people, and not just because that is the worst kind of stalker ever."

He was more thankful than ever that he had a map now. Flynn moved across the hall where marble tiles gave way to expensive rugs. Additional displays of material wealth lined one side of the hall while the other had massive windows that offered a vast view of the darkened courtyard and lavish gardens with cultivated rose bushes.

As it turned out, he didn't need the passcode Weeznod had given him. He had only walked past a single group of guards, and all thirteen of them were snoring heavily face down on their card table.

 _Heh, catching rest, but not intruders._

He still made a point to get away from them as fast as possible because their half-full mugs were filled with the ungodly pollution known as grog, which was some sick sailor's idea of drink. For the second time since he arrived in Weselton, Flynn cursed his heightened senses and gagged as his eyes watered. The smell was as terrible Boganti's shop and that was from chemicals and experiments, and _not_ something considered as a drink by some people that probably also doubled as ship-barnacle remover and oil cleanser. _Ugh_.

After ten more minutes of uneventful movement through the halls later, Flynn soon reached at the Duke's treasure room.

 _As usual, giant locked double-doors in the way because of course there is._

And sure enough, the doorway needed a key. Nobody said anything about a key, probably on the Duke's own person or somewhere in his personal bedroom. But the man only smiled as he knelt down and got to work tinkering with the lock. He was Flynn Rider, he didn't need _keys_.

 _Call me Ali Baba. Open sesame!_ And the doors opened.

Honestly, even the bombastic King Trevor of Equis had had a better lock system in every one of his doors than this. But it wasn't much of a surprise considering the Duke, a man so confident of himself. Apex predators did not usually possess much imagination. Great white sharks did not fear the shadows in the deep. And that was going to cost him tonight, right out of his own pockets.

But all of Flynn's thoughts were driven from his mind as he stepped into the treasure room, stopped dead in his tracks and simply _stared_.

There was more treasure in here than even _he_ had imagined. Entire racks of shining gems, large piles of sacks of glittering gold, old leather-bound books, cups and goblets and vases, jewels that sparkled, fine drapes and silks, suits of shining armour, gold-encrusted weapons of different sizes, paintings, golden statues, the list went on.

Flynn thought he might actually _cry_. "Oh, it's the Promised Land!"

After another moment of goggling out, he snapped his jaw shut. _Okay, I better chill out. You don't want a repeat of last Monday._

Nevertheless, it had been a while since he felt this excited. There was so much, more than he could have hoped for what he had in mind! What was that old saying? If it's too good to be true… then it can't get any _better_!

With that, Flynn pulled a few elastic sacks out of his jacket that were made by the same talented seamstress that had sewn the hidden pockets into his disguise. But before he could take another step, his hawk instincts suddenly cried out in warning and Flynn froze. His eyes dropped to the floor, and his sharp sight quickly espied tiny details in one of the large marble tiles right before him.

Frowning, he bent down and traced his finger around the outline, picking out the tiny indention spaces around the floor tile that allowed it to be pressed down if someone stepped on it. Flynn inhaled sharply. The tile was a pressure plate, no doubt a trigger for a booby trap. It was easy to miss if one didn't know to look for such a thing.

Oh, that had been close. Flynn carefully stepped over it, not particularly fond of finding out whatever unpleasant surprises that pressure plate would've had in store.

But before he could get back to work, Flynn noticed a group of sculptures that took up almost the entire west side of the room and his mouth dropped open again in surprise. It was the Alde sculptures! But how? He had seen them all on display back in the ballroom. Unless…

The feeling he had from when he first looked at the ballroom pieces resurfaced and he took a closer look. With his sharp eyes and experience in his trade of knowing the worth of valuable things, he noticed minute details in these pieces that the ballroom pieces didn't have which confirmed his suspicions. _Fake_. The ballroom specimens of the Alde statues were forgeries while the Duke kept the genuine priceless articles in his private collection for his eyes only. Honestly, Flynn didn't feel very surprised.

He shook his head and set his jaw. He wasn't sure how much time he had for this, and if he actually knew of the honored guest that had just arrived in the ballroom, he would have great cause for worry. But there wasn't much he could carry with him. As much as it offended him, he would have to leave much of this beautiful treasure behind, especially the paintings and sculptures.

But there was also still hope. Taking note of the large window at the rear of the room, Flynn shuffled over to look out at the vantage point it provided. It was no surprise that the Duke also had a window in his private treasure room that had a center view of the entire city to add to his sense of self-importance and greed. As Flynn's eyes looked further down, he realized with a wide and almost ecstatic smile that the courtyard stables were almost directly below. A magnificent addition to his escape plan clicked into place, and he would be able to bring far more loot with him than he ever imagined when he came to Weselton!

Good thing he usually brought rope with him.

"Alright, which bags of gold and jewels should I take with me? Emie, mime… _all of them_."

He immediately got to work, filling the elastic sacks he brought with the smaller bags of gold and jewels. He still couldn't take the artworks with him, but he would still be leaving with more than he had anticipated. Gold coins, sapphires necklaces, emerald rings, goblets, diamond figurines, a bottle of wine, fine silks—

Flynn froze.

Flynn turned.

Flynn let out an awed whimper.

A bottle of wine. Not just any bottle though, but a brew of Valhalla Nectar. A magnificent blend made by the Arendelle royal winemaker half a century ago. It was said that the taste was so divine and exquisite that it was considered a _sin_ to spill a single drop. With only six bottles left in the entire world, Valhalla Nectar was the finest and most expensive wine known to man. Even Flynn never thought he would ever see one of these, a sentiment he demonstrated as he held the precious brew close to his chest, as if afraid it would disappear.

Now he _was_ crying, with tears of delight.

 _I… I love my life… so_ **so** _much._

He felt like he was dreaming. There was not a chance in hell that he would ever sell this, no matter what price someone might offer him. He already knew what to do with it. When he would finally obtain his private island, he would sit back under the sun, crack open this bottle, pour himself a glass and look out at the great horizon.

He shook his head. _Focus!_ He still had to get the bottle out of here, and away from the Duke. _That_ thought sobered up him real quick as he stowed it in one of his hidden pockets. No way would he leave it in a simple sack where it could break easily against the other treasures. He tied the rest of the bags up, then he paused. In the excitement, he had almost forgotten the original reason he had sought out the treasure room.

Eyes sweeping the room, he quickly found his final prize… the Southern Isle rubies. He smirked as he stowed them inside the last bag. With those gone, the Southern Isle twins would be humiliated. If that didn't get them in trouble with their father, the King of the Southern Isles, then he didn't know what would.

Prizes in hand, Flynn opened the window, tied a sack of treasure to the rope and began the process of lowering each sack down to the stables below.

"Alright, just gotta do this in time. And if I run out of time, I'll just start over. It'll buy me time!"

 **~o~O~o~**

"That's enough!" roared King Ben in an uncharacteristically loud shout that startled several nearby guests. "I won't have any more of your pandering! The Alliance will not stand for it any longer!"

"Your majesty, please reconsider! As I've told you, it's not what it looks like!"

"Your attempts to make a covert appointment with Vorhaven's trade ministry is evidence enough. We have more important things to worry about than your political cover-ups! If you continue any of this, we might just declare an embargo on any Weselton shipments into Alliance waters!"

The Duke's face turned two shades whiter and the corners of his mouth started to twitch in a nervous tick. An embargo would ban his shipments and ruin many more contracts. He would never admit that he was _indeed_ trying to lure Alliance supporters and allies to his business enterprises, especially since he had believed that the Alliance would be too occupied with their troubles to notice his meetings with their associates behind closed doors. He was at the most crucial and delicate stage of his plan, and any upsets now could destroy it all. While an embargo against Weselton would cause a dip in Alliance finances and trade, it would put a severe black mark on the Duke's reputation and all his progress to win the Alliance's supporters would be lost almost overnight once word of his scheme had spread.

He had to fix this before his business and reputation were crippled. But King Benjamin was adamant, and there seemed to be no way to get the Glowerhaven monarch to change his opinion. But then again, the Duke realized he had another card to play. He had intended to use it during the final stage of his long-term plan to further cement the new Alliance partnerships he would have one day, but now it might be the only chance he had to save himself from being ruined.

"Let us not be too hasty! How about we settle down and discuss this like civilized men? Perhaps over a bottle of… Valhalla Nectar?"

King Ben's stern expression softened as his eyebrows went up in surprise. "You… you actually have a bottle?"

The Duke smiled. "I have _many_ things I can offer."

King Ben was silent, obviously thinking it over. After a moment, his shoulders slightly slouched. "Very well. Don't think this changes anything, but I suppose there's no harm in talking it over. I'll hear what you have to say."

The Duke did his best to hide his relief. "You won't regret this, your majesty. Why, I'll even pour the bottle with my own hands instead of a servant. I'll be right back with it!"

The noble gestured to his two bodyguards to follow him out of the ballroom, never knowing what he was about to find.

Opal watched terrified as the Duke left, heading straight to the treasure room. Everything had been going so well. But perhaps she should have known better than to get her hopes up.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _Ten minutes later…_

Flynn stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth as he put all his focus into lowering the final bag down the rope. This last one was rather heavy and he had to be careful, especially since he had to make sure no one saw a rope suspiciously lowering treasure out of the Duke's mansion.

And… there!

"Ha! Done in the blink of an eye! I should blink more often!"

Flynn laughed triumphantly to himself as he reached for a golden sword from an ornamental suit of armor and twirled it while posing. All that was left was to sweet-talk the Duke into letting him take Opal with him, sling the sacks up with his horse Triks, reallocate the loot and catch the first ship out of the city! Soon, once he found a new place for Opal somewhere, he could think about finally going to the kingdom of Arendelle and paying a 'private visit' to their palace.

Everything had gone splendidly tonight!

Then his inner hawk suddenly cried in the direction of the doors, and the sound of a key turning in the locked door echoed through the room.

Perhaps he should have knocked on wood first…

The doors opened as the Duke slipped in and closed it behind him, not even allowing his own bodyguards into his private treasury. Then he turned around, and he and Flynn Rider locked eyes.

The briefest of seconds passed before the Duke's eyes widened in surprise and alarm at the realization that there was an armed man inside his treasure room!

 _"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"_

 **~o~O~o~**

The most shrill and high-pitched scream rang throughout the entire mansion, startling every single one of the guests and even causing several of the servants to almost drop their drinks.

Everyone remained still in surprise for a moment before shrugging and returned to their business, figuring that one of the noblemen must be showing the screaming girl in question a 'good time' in bed.

 **~o~O~o~**

Ears ringing from being at ground zero of the Duke's scream, Flynn incredulously peeked his head back out from underneath his heavy coat.

"Please don't ever do that again…"

There are those who say you learn something new every day. Tonight, Flynn was provided a very vocal demonstration of how only nobles can shout and scream so loudly. It came with having nothing to do but complain about everything all the live long day.

There was another brief pause before the Duke suddenly remembered himself. " _Eh-hem!_ Lord Gladstone, what are you doing in here? This wing of my house is strictly off-limits to guests, and how did you even get in? Wait, what happened to my pieces!?"

 _Oh, this must look incriminating._

He was just about to leap out the window and slide the rope down to the horse stables, but suddenly froze. Opal was still back in the ballroom, he couldn't leave just yet. Damn it!

"Umm, hi, your grace. Heh, no need to be alarmed, your donations have been graciously accepted by, uh, charity."

"Donations? _Charity_!?" The Duke looked as if the very word affronted him. "What are you—I don't give to charities! You… you _stole_ from me!?"

"Steal? That's such a harsh word. I prefer the term 'aggressive fundraising'," He answered frivolously. "And it's all for the proud Flynn Rider Private Island Fund!"

The Duke stopped still as the gears in his head clicked. "Flynn… Rider? That vagabond outlaw? Lord Gladstone, you're _working_ with him!?"

Flynn blinked, not sure whether to be amused or offended. "Um, sure! I most certainly am! Congratulations, your grace! Your generous donations will be helping to make a handsome man's dream come true! I love it when people do that!"

"How dare you steal from me, you pompous ingrate! This is treason!"

"Treason?" Flynn spat back in a ridiculously offended tone. "Now that's just rude! I've been working my butt off for years to help that man's dream come true, and this is the thanks I get!? You know what, don't say anything. You don't care. You're just a selfish rich jerk. I get that. Now I'm getting out of here as fast as I can. People like you just make me sick."

For his part, the Duke looked as if someone had rudely kicked him in a sensitive place and was gapping like a guppy. Which allowed Flynn to dash right up and _rip his toupee off._

Before the tiny man could even process what just happened, the thief, toupee in hand, darted straight for the door and swung them open. As soon as he did, the Duke's bodyguards saw the man and rushed to apprehend him, only for Flynn to quickly slam the doors in their faces, _hard,_ and were knocked to the ground stunned. Flynn casually stepped over them and bolted down the hallway.

"HEY, STOP!" the Duke screamed after him, apparently recovered from his earlier shock. "What are you doing with _my hair_!?"

"Uh… _running_!"

Much to Flynn's surprise, the incensed Duke took off after him at an unexpected pace. For such a scrawny man with short legs while wearing _heels_ , he was surprisingly fast. Regardless, Flynn was far younger, more athletic, better looking and had more than enough experience evading soldiers and other authority figures. Sure enough, it didn't take long before Flynn got a head start around a corner and spotted a patrol that included a particular guard he recognized. Then he got a sneaky idea.

"Lieutenant! No, _Captain_ Weeznod! I need your help!"

"Lord Gladstone! What's wrong!"

"You got to help me!" Flynn cried, looking every inch like a man terrified out of his wits. "There's some bald lunatic chasing after me! I don't what's wrong with him, but he's screaming like a madman! You have to stop him!"

Weeznod snapped into a salute. "Understood, I won't fail you Gladstone! Tally-ho I say, men!"

Flynn couldn't help but grin widely as he took off again. "Thank you, Captain, thank you!"

Weeznod and his men quickly and quietly took positions around the corners and waited. Seconds later, the Duke came barreling through, where the guards effectively tackled him to the ground in a dogpile.

"Stop that ma- _ommph_! _Gah_! My sciatica, my sciatica!"

"Ah-hah, we have you now, villain! You can't escape from a loyal lieutenant of—"

"It's _me_ , you incompetent fop!"

Lieutenant Weeznod paled. " _Your Grace_! I-I'm so sorry! We thought that— I mean, Gladstone said there was a…"

" _Gladston_ e!" the Duke fumed as his two bodyguards had finally caught up and pulled him up by the arms out of the dogpile. "Don't listen to that man, he's a thief and a traitor, working with outlaws! But he won't get away from _me_! I won't have a criminal in my own house! I'll deal with your ineptitude later, we need to get after him!"

None of the guards present could ever remember the Duke so furious before, let alone being so red in the face. But as he bolted towards the door Gladstone had fled through, Weeznod tried to call after him.

"Your Grace, wait! That door leads to the—!"

The red-faced Duke blew right through the door, thinking only of catching the rogue noble that dared to steal from him, screaming at the top of his lungs.

" _GLADSTOOOOOONNNNNNNNEEEEE—_!"

The Duke froze in place as he suddenly realized where he was.

"…ballroom," Weeznod lamely finished.

Everyone's attention had been naturally drawn to the commotion of a door being violently slammed open as their host came out screaming like a dry soprano. But that was quickly forgotten when they beheld a new sight at the same time the Duke remembered that his toupee was missing, leaving his embarrassing bald spot for all of his peers and staff members to see.

The musicians stopped playing, and the dead silence that fell over the ballroom was deafening. Several servants dropped their serving trays which clattered loudly to the floor while others stood in still motion completely unaware that they were overflowing the glasses of wine they had been pouring. No one moved as they could not help but stare. Opal silently gasped, eyes wide with disbelief at the sight of the mortified Duke trying vainly to cover his bald spot.

As for Flynn, the moment he had reentered the ballroom he had seamlessly slipped back into the crowd and was standing casually next to one of the fake Alde sculptures as if he never left. He was already in a little more trouble than he had planned, but he decided to go with his gut and right then his gut was full of _desert_.

"Wow," he called out loudly, breaking the silence. "That has got to be the worst bad hair day in for- _ever_!"

Several loud snickers and chuckles began as numerous nobles and staff members were doing their best to keep themselves from laughing. Flynn could see Opal close by, covering her smile with her hand, the rise and fall of her shoulders failing to conceal her giggling.

Alright, time for the final blow. "Oh, this is even better than when he was _dancing_!"

That did it. Like a magic spell was suddenly lifted, everyone in the entire ballroom burst out in wild laughter that belied their noble stature but none of them cared at the moment. There were even a few cheers and clapping hands of applause. Opal laughed as loud everyone else in disbelief and delight. Even the Southern Isle twins were in hysterics with rowdy hoots.

The Duke of _Nasal_ town was humiliated!

As for King Ben, he wiped a tear from his eye with a handkerchief as he joined in the jolly laughter, delighted to see the Duke finally get his just deserts. At least until he thought he recognized the voice that called out… but no, it couldn't be…

His eyes glanced towards the unnamed voice and bulged when he recognized the face.

" **YOU!** "

The sudden roar of outrage and accusation cut through the rambunctious mood like a hot knife. The laughter quickly trailed off at the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere as everyone turned towards the source. Flynn turned as well, only for his triumphant grin to vanish when he recognized King Ben of Glowerhaven glaring thunderously at him.

"Oh no…" he muttered under his breath. The situation was just getting worse.

The Duke was quick to seize the opportunity as his mortally embarrassing moment passed. One of his bodyguards wordlessly handed him a new toupee that he was quick to slap onto his head. Straightening himself up, the Duke mustered up all the authority and dignity he still possessed as he pointed a finger.

"It's Count Gladstone! Stop him! He's in league with Flynn Rider!"

"You fool!" King Ben cried out at the Duke. "That's not Count Gladstone at all! This man isn't some accomplice of Flynn Rider, HE **IS** FLYNN RIDER!"

Silence took the room again as all eyes turned to the man in question. Even graveyards would be envious of the quiet in the ballroom. It was clear that everyone had heard the rumors and tales of the thief roaming the lands, making off with royal treasures. The stunning possibility of him standing right in their midst was nothing short of shocking. No one knew what would happen next, not even the guards as they slowly reached for their weapons in case it was true.

Seconds that seemed like hours passed as everyone watched the accused man who stood perfectly still.

Then his shoulders slouched and his noble posture dropped.

"Oh, come on!" he splayed his arms indignantly. "You're not supposed to find out until after I'm long gone! I mean, no one likes it when the kid sneaks downstairs to open his presents early!"

Everyone was taken aback at the sudden shift in the man who had been chatting with them for the past several hours, especially at his unabashed admittance of who he was. It was like he was completely unconcerned that he was surrounded by the most powerful of the nobility.

Count Mathis Gladstone had vanished, and Flynn Rider was back.

"And King _Benny_! How's it going, old buddy? Hey, if you miss the pigs from last time, there's a roasted one on the table right over there!"

Before the Glowerhaven monarch could respond, Flynn spun back towards the host. "But if you're wondering why I'm here, don't bother asking! I mean, let's be honest here. You throw the biggest party in years and didn't expect me to show up? Just what on earth were you thinking, Sir Duke of Nasaltown?"

The Duke looked like he had just been slapped as he sputtered "Nasalto—it's _Weselton_ , you mendacious little—!"

"I don't careeee, _your worship_ ," Flynn flippantly dismissed, enjoying the shocked looks he was drawing from his 'brazen audacity' of speaking to the Duke in such a manner. Thieves were supposed to _run_ , not stay and make fun of their would-be-jailers. No one had any idea what this man was doing.

"But I will say that I've had a lot of fun here! I've been all over the lands, seen a lot of fancy and expensive stuff, but this, now _this_ is something else," he marveled dramatically as he casually leaned against the pedestal of the Alde statue. "What a house! So much splendor and majesty! I am so glad I've had the chance to—"

The Alde statue tipped over.

"—oh no, no no no!"

 _Crash!_

But instead of the 'priceless' work of art shattering into dozens of fractured pieces, it simply snapped cleanly in two, revealing the empty hollow space underneath a thin outer shell. Everyone gasped in shock.

"Oh, would you look at that!" Flynn cried out. "It's a fake. They're fake! Just like everything else the Duke promises!"

A wave of outraged and scandalized murmurs swept through the crowd at the revelation of such an impudent deception from the Duke. Flynn smiled. Manipulating a crowd was just so easy, not to mention entertaining. But he wasn't finished with the Duke quite yet. "Just one question! How is it that you're so short and scrawny even when you shovel **_crap_** all day?"

The Duke was clenching his teeth so tightly, Flynn was surprised he couldn't hear the molars grinding.

"I won't have you slandering my good name in my own house! I'm going to have you thrown in the deepest, darkest hole I can find and throw the key into the ocean! Your life is over, you hear me!?"

"Hey, don't be such a pessimist!" Flynn shot back. "Besides, I'm allergic to shackles, you know."

"Uncouth peon!" the Duke screeched. "You will learn respect, Rider! _Guards!_ "

"Okay! I can take a hint!"

Flynn came face-to-face with a large group of guards trying to encircle him. They seemed to be various shades of angry, unsure and anxious, nervously hefting their swords, pikes and crossbows.

 _Well, I can understand how some people can't get enough of me, but it's for their own good. Really._

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the rest of the guards locking the entrance tight, ruling out the front entrance as an escape route. The Duke smirked smugly; obviously thinking it was already over. "Now, bring me his head!"

Well, that was just uncalled for! So, there was now only one thing left for Flynn to do. It was time to be _awesome_.

 _"You might be able to use this in your mission," Boganti offered._

 _Flynn eyed the black sphere in hand with glee before pocketing it. "Oh god, I hope so! This will do perfectly!"_

In the face of otherwise certain death, he only laughed as he reached inside his overcoat. "Sorry, but my head has a strict 'no-detachment' policy."

King Ben saw this, and suddenly had a feeling that everything was about to go wrong. He had only encountered the thief once before, and he had cleverly outsmarted them by being two steps ahead of everyone. There was a reason why he had evaded capture for so long, because Flynn Rider would always have a trick up his sleeve!

"LOOK OUT! _"_

Too late. Flynn pulled a black sphere out from his coat, held his nose tight and threw it as hard as he could towards the dance floor. The shell cracked open and its contents were released, a colorless waft sweeping across the ballroom and engulfing everyone in it.

Ambergris gas, when aged and distilled improperly, had a very particular and powerful smell. If Boganti was to be believed, one whiff of it would cause a mermaid to swoon and become instantly infatuated with the nearest person. But for humans, the foul odor was enough to make almost anyone keel over.

"Oh god, what is that!?"

"My nose! I can't breathe!"

"I'm going to be sick!"

"I need to get out! It's too close in here! I must get some air!"

"Smelling salts! Does anyone have smelling salts! My wife is distraught!"

With everyone disoriented and practically debilitated, nobles and guards alike, Flynn dashed straight for Opal, not _daring_ to take a breath. He regretted seeing her just as affected by the gas, green in the face with watery eyes, but sometimes drastic measures were needed. He quickly guided her out of the ballroom, grabbed a water vase and gently splashed her face with it. As powerful as ambergris was, it was easily counteracted with water.

"Easy, easy… sorry about that," he apologized. "But it was the best way out for us."

Even though she was still recovering from the effects, the water had cleared her nose of the odor and neutralized the worst of the effects.

"I can't… oh, that terrible smell," she breathed heavily. "What on earth was that horrid stuff?"

"A gift from a cuckoo friend of mine. But it won't be much longer before the rest of it wears off out there. Again, sorry about putting you through that but there's no time to argue, so I suggest lodging your complaints at a steady jog!"

"Okay, but what happened!?" Opal panicked. "I thought you were going to talk to the Duke to get me out of here! Please _please_ tell me that you have a Plan B!"

"Plan B? Of course not! My plans are _numbered_. Now follow me, I have a shortcut ready. We're getting outta here!"

As Flynn guided Opal to the treasure room, they didn't notice a single figure unaffected by the ambergris shove his way out of the crowd, ready to give chase.

 **~o~O~o~**

Opal still could not believe where she was.

In the last half hour, Flynn's actions had made her go from feeling defeated to hopeful to nauseous and now frighteningly exhilarated. She didn't think it was possible for someone to change her world so much in so little time. She had just watched him humiliate the Duke and slander his reputation, and then incapacitate an entire room to make his escape with her. And now she was here in the Duke's treasure room, somewhere she never thought she would see. How many times had Flynn so easily accomplished the unthinkable?

And somehow, she had a strange feeling that the impossible deeds weren't even close to being done for the night. Such a feeling made her feel… _excited_. More than she had in a long time.

Flynn was quick to recognize the growing look of amazement on her face. "Heh, some things are easier _done_ than said for me. And everything in the world is easy once you know the trick to it."

"I just… I can't believe we've done this! And you did it all for… what are you even going to do with all that treasure?"

That question actually made Flynn pause, and his gaze turned pensive. Normally, it would all go towards the 'Flynn Rider Private Island Fund' as he had mentioned to the Duke, but after what he had seen tonight he wasn't as sure.

 _"Commoners are so plain. I doubt they can even tell themselves apart!"_

 _"Such entitlement from one born with nothing to their name. No family name, no holdings, no power. Remember your place."_

 _"Food? These are difficult times. Our noble blood makes us the experts in running society,_ we _need the food. The people can eat_ grass _."_

Flynn let out a long sigh. If he kept all the treasure for himself, he would be leagues closer to having his private island. But keeping all that wealth to himself was exactly what the Duke and all the nobles were doing. He would _not_ be like them. Furthermore, he had stuffed his face with salted pork and fine wine in the ballroom while countless others in Weselton begged for scraps. And once Flynn remembered back at the orphanage how happy all the other kids were whenever he brought food back, he had made his decision.

Besides, it was what his idol had always done with his immense wealth. If Flynn truly wanted to be like him, to carry his name…

"I'll… see to it that this money gets where it's needed the most," he finally answered.

Opal caught the meaningful look. "That's wonderful, but how are we supposed to get out of here?"

"Out the window, of course," Flynn answered matter-of-factly. "The horse stables are just below."

"…What." Opal asked flatly.

"Don't worry, I've got plenty of rope!" Flynn laughed. "It's how I got so much of the treasure here out and down to the stables."

It was only now that she realized that treasure room didn't look as filled up with treasure as she had imagined. She looked back to the thief. "You… you got all the treasure out through… and we're just… just supposed to…"

She moved over to the window and looked out, before abruptly pulling her head back in. Looking down had clearly been a mistake.

"I should probably mention that I'm afraid of heights… which I just learned."

"Ah, look at the bright side!" Flynn smiled. "There will be plenty of time to get over it on the way down!"

Opal's eyes widened, the clearest they had been all night.

At that moment, Flynn stopped talking when he heard his inner hawk screech yet again. It drew his hearing to the sound of rapidly approaching armored boots, and Flynn's hands clenched. They weren't out of this just yet; whoever was coming their way was wearing armor, and only one person came to mind. _Not good._

"We're about to have company in a moment, and it won't be of the friendly type."

Worry began creeping back into the dancer's eyes. "What? I thought that horrible smelling stuff of yours took care of everyone!"

Flynn sighed. "Looks like a certain rhinoceros made it through."

"Rhinoceros? What do you mean by— wait. Do you mean… _him_?" The dancer's face flooded with terror. "Oh… oh no… oh no, no, no, no! Please tell me you have a plan for this!"

Flynn's sharp eyes darted all over the room, looking for a solution. Then he found one and gave a small grin. "There's being prepared and being psychic. For lack of a crystal ball, we'll improvise!"

 ** _SBAM!_**

The door was slammed open with such force that the lock was broken beyond repair. The seven-foot tall arrival didn't have a key, he had a boot.

"Enough of this ring-around-the-rosy, Rider!" proclaimed Roksar, the bodyguard of the Southern Isle princes. "If you think a little gas would work on me, think again! I was drugged once before at the Tournament of Champions, and I've taken measures to never let it happen again! Poisons and other drugs don't work on me!"

Opal whimpered in fear at the giant of a man as he reached for his massive sword, while Flynn appeared as if something most peculiar had caught his eye.

"Well, you're not the ugliest thing I've ever seen," he said. "But you do make a close fifth."

Roksar's eyes narrowed fiercely as he bared his teeth at the little man. "You're only making this worse for yourself, Rider. Your capture will restore my name and return the Southern Isles to glory and favor. But no one said that you have to be delivered intact. You have two eyes and ten fingers, and _that_ can change. Give up now, and you'll be spared a world of pain."

How wonderful, he was giving Flynn the chance to grovel.

The thief only smirked as if he was just told a clever joke. "Not to brag, but you don't stand a chance against me. Oh alright, I bragged."

Now Roksar actually looked confused. "What is wrong with you? Don't you understand? It's over! You're not getting out of this! You may have slipped past those green grunts, but you have never… dealt with… the likes of… _will you_ _pay attention_!?"

Flynn's head shot back up from examining his overcoat. "Huh? Oh. Just checking my fancy clothes. Apparently, they weren't designed to handle my thrilling heroics. Wonder if I have to get them replaced. Tears in your jacket are just the worst, right? So. You done?"

"Are you _mocking_ me?"

"Mocking? Oh, heavens no, I'm just bored. Do you want to _hear_ mocking?" Flynn puffed up his chest and deepened his voice. " _I'm a Southern Isles lapdog with a bad attitude! Honor! Misplaced hostility! GRRR!"_

Roksar's eyes bulged, and even had a bit of foam at the corner of his mouth. "YOU LITTLE…!"

"HEY! Don't call me _little_!" Flynn interjected. "I know plenty of ladies that can tell you the word doesn't apply to me in the least. Can't say the same about you though! That oversized toothpick you're holding isn't the only real sword on you, is it? Or compensation, perhaps?"

When in doubt, insult their male pride and they will come at you stupidly. Flynn was rather curious to see how long it would take before the giant brute came at him like the angry shopkeeper from the other day, or if it would just be an evening of posturing. That prospect was _boring_ and he hoped for something better.

He didn't have to wait long, as Roksar roared in a feral rage and charged straight for the thief with his broadsword raised…

… and stepped on the pressure plate.

Without warning, the section of the floor underneath Roksar opened up and the bodyguard disappeared as he fell into a dark pit. Barely a second passed before the floor closed up again as if nothing had happened. It was over. Just like that.

Opal stood there with her mouth hanging open in a rather unladylike manner, her mind trying to grapple with what had just happened.

Flynn put his ear to the ground, picking out the muffled cries of indignation from Roksar as he loosed a string of expletives that would make a pirate blush. He couldn't help but chuckle. "Ah ha _ha_! Whoo! And he's supposed to be the champion of the Southern Isles? Ha! Yet another fabulous example of our taxes at work, which is another reason why I don't pay taxes!"

He moved back over to a still dumbstruck Opal as he grabbed the rope from earlier and expertly tied it tightly around them. She started to regain her senses as he pried the window wide open.

"Wait, we're really going to do this?"

"Yyyyyep! Time to do the thing!"

"Oh, no—I don't like this—oh, I _really_ don't like this—!"

"Gem, _Gem_! A wise person once told me that you can never truly appreciate life until you try extra hard to _lose it_. I'd tell you what happened to him, but it's kind of a sad story."

" _What!?_ "

" _GERAMINO_!"

Opal held onto Flynn for dear life as he leapt clear from the window ledge, letting the rush of the evening air reenergize his spirit. As the cold wind of the night whistled in his ears, he let out a burst of jubilant laughter alongside Opal's shriek of excitement, surprise and no small amount of fear.

As a man who constantly tested his limits throughout his adventures, Flynn knew how to take risks with plenty of assurances. He was anything but a fool. When it came to long climbing and great jumps such as the one from the Duke's mansion, he always used rope that was guaranteed to take his weight and more. The rope he used was taken from the best shipbuilding companies, which made rope designed to hold mighty ships together even in the most turbulent of stormy seas. As such, it easily held both his and Opal's weight as they swung down towards the courtyard stables, and then stretched tightly but securely as they stopped, dangling just ten feet above a large stack of golden hay for the horses.

Flynn had laughed the whole way down. "Ah, I love gravity! I am good at this, _I admit it_! Hey Opal, you alright?"

Vigorous nodding.

"Good, now hold on," he advised as he raised a knife from one of his hidden pockets and deftly cut the rope holding them up.

"WOAH!" Opal yelped as they dropped into the haystack.

A second later, Flynn hopped out of the cart, dusting off odd strands of hay off his outfit in an absent-minded manner before pulling out a very shaken Opal.

"I… I've never felt anything like that before in my life," she breathed in slowly rising exhilaration. "It feels like my blood is singing!"

Flynn laughed. "I know, right? That feeling is the spice of life! Just think, you never would have felt it if you stayed 'safely' as the Duke's servant."

 _Who is the happier man? He who has braved the storm and lived, or he who stayed safely at home and merely existed?_

It was official; his idol was the wisest man to have ever lived.

"But no time to dally! Time for Step 2! Over here!"

Fifteen minutes ago, Opal thought they would have been dead by Step 2, so this was going great! Even so, the dancer could not help but gape at the sight of all the sacks of gleaming treasure Flynn had lowered into a nearby alcove. She had never seen so much wealth in all her life! Idly, she slipped the gold flatware from earlier out of her sleeve and tossed them over her shoulder.

"But, wait! How are we supposed to run from the guards while carrying all this?"

She heard Flynn snicker from behind. "Remember who you're talking to. Why run when you can _ride_?"

Opal slowly turned around to see Flynn tying his horse Triks to a magnificently designed horse carriage. "Your carriage my lady, compliments of the Duke."

Her eyes went wider than ever, not knowing how many more surprises she could take. "The Duke's personal carriage!? Are you… how is it that you haven't killed yourself yet?"

"Well, the night is still young!" Flynn laughed. "Anyway, I think we've both had our fill of Weasel Town, as they call it, and it's going to get a lot less hospitable shortly, so… shall we load the treasure?"

"Yes! Leaving! Good idea! I vote yes!"

Ten minutes later, everything had been loaded and the two were sitting atop the carriage as it slowly rode out of its post, turning towards the open gates. Apparently, the attendants hadn't thought to close it after King Ben had arrived. Triks let out a small grunt as he tapped his front hoof, ready to take off.

Opal was still caught between excitement and anxiety. "I can't believe I'm about to do this. I mean, just a while ago we were trapped in the ballroom and the guards had you surrounded! And now we're out here!"

"Oh yes, they shall always remember this as the day that they almost caught—"

"RIDER! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH MY CARRIAGE!?"

The man in question looked up to see the Duke, red in the face, peering down from the front balcony.

"Ah, _your worship_!" he called up. "Thank you for leaving it all ready for us to make way! And what a magnificent getaway carriage it is!"

"YOU THINK YOU CAN STEAL FROM ME, YOU FILTHY STREET-RAT?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?"

The thief went still at the question. Then he turned around and boldly stood atop the carriage as a great conviction surged through him, his inner hawk drawing up proudly. "I am Flynn Rider!" he declared for all to hear. "An independent man, adventurer and seeker of riches, free of debt and beholden to no one! Least of all a _weasel_ like you!"

With that, he snapped the horse reigns. " _Hyah!_ " The carriage took off at incredible speed through the gates.

The Duke snarled. "ERIK! FRANCIS! **STOP HIM**!"

And as if on cue, the front doors burst open as his two personal bodyguards charged on horseback after the thief.

The chase was on!

 **~o~O~o~**

"Yah! Yah! _Yah!_ " Flynn called as he snapped the reigns with each cry.

He mentally patted himself on the back for having trusted his instincts when he bought Triks the other day. Triks continued to prove he was an exemplary breed of horse as he continued to single-handedly pull the carriage laden with treasure and two passengers at top speed without showing any sign of fatigue. In less than two minutes, they were already out of the Duke's district and about to charge through the lower class districts.

Just as they left the Duke's grounds, Flynn's sharp eyes spotted something atop a nearby roof. It was the two children that had tried to pickpocket him several hours earlier, watching the scene before them with stunned faces. Judging by all the food and cake in their hands, they had found the silver coins he had left them. Now they were treated to dinner _and_ a show!

"How you doing?" he called over the rushing wind. "Don't try this at home, kids! _Do it at someone else's house!_ "

As they passed by the kids, he turned back to Opal next to him. "Say goodbye to the Duke's little palace Gem, because you'll never see it again! Now do me a favor and take the reigns!"

"What!?" Opal cried as the thief started climbing back on top of the carriage. "Where are you going?"

"I need to redistribute this wealth!" he answered. "People are hungry!"

With that, he withdrew his knife and started cutting through the top of the Duke's carriage. He had to hold on tightly though. Now that they had left the upper district, the roads were no longer as smooth and well-maintained which meant a much bumpier ride at high speed. He grit his teeth as the knife got caught, the material of the carriage's roof was sturdier than it appeared. He stood himself up higher, masterfully balancing himself against the high-speed wind and swaying of the carriage, and started pressing his boot as hard as he could to break through the roof.

But they had not gotten away as easily as it appeared. Unbeknownst to them, however, the Duke's two bodyguards were still giving chase and were fast approaching behind. There was still a considerable distance between them and their quarry, but even with Triks' incredible speed and endurance the guards were unburdened by any heavy loads.

After another moment, they closed just enough distance as they wordlessly pulled out their crossbows and angled them steadily. Erik and Francis rarely spoke, if ever, but they moved with deadly purpose as they expertly aimed at the thief slightly crouched atop the carriage with his back presented to them as an easy target. The shot was perfect. With narrowed eyes and a nod of assent between them, they both pulled the trigger and their taut arrows eagerly sprang from their crossbows, aiming straight to plunge through the soft tissue of the thief's neck and pierce the delicate artery…

"Whoa!"

… only as the carriage roof finally gave way and a surprised Flynn suddenly disappeared as he fell through, the shots passing harmlessly through the space he had occupied less than a second earlier.

The Duke's men blinked. They looked at each other in stunned silence. The man had vanished from his spot _after_ they pulled the trigger by sheer coincidence! How was _anyone_ that lucky!? The thief's good fortune only became more apparent when they realized they hadn't had time to bring any more arrows.

Inside the carriage, Flynn furrowed his brow. Right before he unceremoniously fell through the roof, he could have sworn he felt his inner hawk instincts tingle for a brief moment. _Ah well_ , he shrugged. Getting back to it, he took off his noble overcoat and settled it aside gently to avoid damaging the precious bottle of Valhalla Nectar hidden in the pockets. The disguise of Count Mathis Gladstone was hardly needed now as he now grabbed the first sack of treasure and hefted it up to the roof.

As they approached a nearby cluster of peasants, he smiled broadly and tossed the massive sack to the ground before them where it split open, spilling golden wealth everywhere. The effect was immediate, as the sound of gold coins and sparkling jewels dropping instantly had everyone eagerly scrambling with tears of delight to grab as much as they could carry.

Opal steered the carriage as much she could to avoid the rapidly growing crowd, which Triks handled perfectly with a determined snort. The Duke's bodyguards, still a fair distance behind the carriage, did not fare as well. Erik, the bearded man, barely made it through before the crowd grew too thick to navigate through by horse while Francis, the guard with the long sideburns, found himself trapped behind. He pulled the reigns on his horse in time to keep from running over any of the commoners, which would cause problems for their lord, and grit his teeth in frustration at falling too far behind.

It was all up to his partner now.

It was a purpose that Erik felt drape over his shoulders as he saw his partner stuck behind the crowd. He was now the only one left in the pursuit. If even half the stories were true, all Flynn Rider would need was one moment out of sight to disappear and they would never find him. But the chance to catch him right now remained, as Erik saw with fiercely narrowed eyes as Flynn kept tossing his lord's wealth to the masses everywhere they rode. Flynn had no intention of vanishing just yet. Using that to bolster his resolute determination, he slapped his horse again to pick up the pace. Slowly, the horse continued to accelerate, running harder than it had in over a year. It would dearly need rest afterward, but was steadily catching up.

As Erik drew closer to the rear of the carriage, he slowly leaned forward with an extended hand. The edge of the brass rail handle intended for footmen was almost within his reach. Just a little closer. He pushed his horse even harder and he leaned dangerously over the side. He couldn't fail now! Just a little more… only a little… almost… almost!

 _He had it!_

He thrust himself off his horse, which quickly slowed down in relief, as Erik clung to the carriage as hard as he could to keep his grip. The carriage was frequently bouncing over several speed bumps, and it was threatening his grip. Letting a few steady breaths to compose himself with his precarious position, he relinquished his grip with one hand to quickly unbuckle his rapier and delicately clenched the blade between his teeth as he began to climb.

"Hold on!" Opal cried from the front as she suddenly swerved around a sharp turn. The carriage swung dangerously to the right as it managed the turn, the unexpected momentum swinging Erik around the rear corner of the carriage and slamming his face into the side window.

" _Gah!_ "

Flynn had at that moment lowered himself back inside the carriage to better handle the sharp turn while also reaching for the next sack of gold. Suffice to say, Flynn yelped in surprise and alarm when the furious face of the Duke's bodyguard was suddenly slapped against his window, glaring fiercely at him with a sword clenched tightly between his teeth. It made for quite the terrifying visage to say the least. Flynn watched as the man out for his blood regained his grip and began up to the top of the carriage.

The thief bit his lip in deep worry. He had not expected that any of the guards would be able to catch up, and worse, it was one of the Duke's personal guard. Yet here he was, and he would literally be on top of them within seconds! He hadn't planned for this. That man was larger and stronger than him, and he didn't have the time to improvise like he did with Roksar. Flynn was more capable than most in a fight, but he needed something he could use, and his knife had fallen somewhere in the carriage during that last turn and he didn't have time to find it! Without a weapon or tool, he would be cornered with a very limited space to fight.

It would take a _miracle_ now!

Barely a second later, the carriage hit another bump in the road, which jostled open a hidden side compartment in the wall… and a sword fell into his lap.

Uh, well. _Hallelujah._

Smiling, the thief grabbed the sword as he climbed back up through the small hole, muscle memory doing the rest as he expertly held the hilt with relaxed ease. The familiarity of a sword's weight and balance flowed through him as he stood back atop the carriage.

"Still doing alright, Gem?"

Opal laughed as she held the reigns as skillfully as she could manage. "Oh, I'm still alarmed out of my wits, but this is oddly exhilarating!"

"Don't lose that touch! Now take the right turn up here! Do it, quick!"

"Um, alright!" Flynn hadn't steered her wrong yet tonight so she trusted his judgment as she took a different route.

"Forget the Pony Express, all aboard for the Flynn Rider Express! Next stop, happy hour!" Then Flynn turned to watch Erik finally climb onto the back of the roof. "No, not you! You don't have a ticket!"

Erik narrowed his eyes as he balanced himself aboard the slightly turbulent ride and against the high-speed winds. Slowly, he drew his own sword and pointed it towards the thief in challenge. Flynn twirled his new blade as the thief and the bodyguard silently stood off facing each other as the wind rushed past them on the speeding carriage.

Flynn slightly lowered his sword. "Look, there's no shame in surrendering to me, I'm sure that—" he started before he had to dodge a swipe at his head. "Hey, I was talking!"

Erik launched another simple thrust, which Flynn simply parried, before advancing with another offensive. Flynn dodged and countered each one. While Erik was no fool, he expected that Flynn Rider, while a clever and athletic thief, would fold like paper under the skill of an experienced fighter. He clearly wasn't anticipating for Flynn to get the upper hand so fast, or even at all. But he pushed even harder after that, and _really_ pushed. And yet the thief still deflected the incoming blade with ease.

As they dueled fiercely, Flynn couldn't help smiling with pride as he had taken the words of his idol to heart when he had learned the art of the sword.

 _True adventure is about more than simple thrills. It's about expanding our horizons and testing our boundaries. It is only through adventure that we come to know our limits, and only through knowing our limits that we learn to shatter them. Such knowledge comes with the immense responsibility to improve yourself with it. Strength out of place is no strength at all. Always renew and enhance the greatest asset you have—_ **you** _. Hone your skills and perfect every technique. Come at the world with the best you are, so that no matter the danger you will be ready to face it. Study and dedication, no matter the craft, may take years of hard and trying work but ask yourself: Won't achieving your dream be worth it?_

The traveling thief had once spent three months with a champion sword master in Albion, and was taught many things. His instructor explained that mastery of the sword was a lifetime's achievement earned only through diligent, persistent and focused training. Any move can take about ten years to learn how to do well. But if you knew even a little, you'd have an advantage over most. And if sword-fighting and pickpocketing had one thing in common, it was about controlling your opponent's attention. In this matter, Flynn was already an ace in spades. In addition, he was strong, athletic, agile, a gifted climber and did not shy away from danger. He required almost no exercise to prepare his body.

Practice and instruction was all about training the mind and body. Yet for whatever incredible reason during his practice with the sword, Flynn's body and natural instinct seemed to take over and knew _exactly_ what it was supposed to do with little repetition. To say that he was a natural was putting it lightly. His instructor would correct his movement by demonstrating the proper version himself, and Flynn would nod, before almost instantly correcting perfectly and perform the move flawlessly. A move that had taken the champion instructor two years to learn. As if he was absorbing a decade's worth of technique in a few days, Flynn's practice with the sword accomplished in weeks what many could not do in years.

Flynn knew his progress was as strange as it was extraordinary, but if there was one thing he had learned in his adventures it was to never turn down the opportunity of a gift that fell into your lap. His life was just that _awesome_.

His skill with the blade showed as he kept repelling every one of Erik's attacks. He was much lighter and agile in his movements now without the constricting overcoat and the weight of all the pickpocketed valuables. He was almost a blur, and the Duke's bodyguard simply could not win against Flynn's superior speed.

Nevertheless, Erik wasn't slowing down either. He was more powerfully built than Flynn and, despite the thief's speed and skill, he had far more experience and stamina. Prolonged fights, or even _fair_ fights, were not Flynn's preferred style. Worse, he didn't exactly have a lot of room to maneuver on top of a carriage. It would take more than usual to get rid of the Duke's guard quickly enough if he wanted to escape.

 _Which is why I still have an idea._

After being chased by so many guards and soldiers over the years, he had long since learned how to tell what type of man they were in order to best evade and sometimes exploit them. Flynn was quick to tell that the Duke's guards were of the single-mindedly devoted type, utterly focused on their target and not letting anything else distract them. Such determination and persistence was admirable in most cases, but it could also easily blind you to your surroundings.

Flynn felt his hawk instincts cry out, which was exactly what he was waiting for. Even as he had grabbed his new sword earlier to confront the Duke's guard, he already had a plan in mind and had Opal take a very specific route that took them down the street of the tailor shop with the angry shopkeeper from the other day. All he had needed to do was keep the bodyguard occupied.

With a hidden smile, Flynn suddenly ducked. Erik barely had time to be confused at the thief's move before he looked up just in time to see the incoming ' _Perfect Fit- We'll Sew You Up Good!_ ' sign of the tailor shop as it slammed into the man's chest, carrying him clean off the carriage.

"Bye, have a great time!" Flynn waved after him. "We're in the clear, Gem!"

"It's over?" Opal breathed. "We actually lost them?"

"That's right, he's long gone! Man, I'm good!" Flynn laughed. "Now come on! Still got a lot of gold and a lot of hungry people out there! Free money for everyone! _Hyah!_ "

Opal joined in on the laughter with great joy as they turned the carriage down another route.

 **~o~O~o~**

For the next half hour, the duo rode up and down the districts of Weselton, tossing small fortunes wherever they went. The spirits of the people soared as high as the clouds, feeling their hearts sing in gladness as the prayers to so many of their troubles were answered. Such profound joy spread like wildfire in a field of dry grass, as the people of Weselton were happier than they had felt in years!

All actions have repercussions, an equal and opposite reaction. All lives affect others. Helping a single person can have many effects, but Flynn had given to _many_ and therefore had caused an entire city of ripples that would build on top of one another like a great chorus until it could become a tsunami. Flynn simply wanted to help feed many of the people that had starved and suffered in squalor as he had, even if only for a little while, but ripples caused by kindness and generosity for those who truly need it can last a lifetime. He didn't know it, but he had started the work that would lead to great change.

Many now had enough money to buy hot and healthy meals for months. They could get doctors and medicine. Families could now pay to send their children to school, where they could get their education and become better people with good jobs. They could repair their homes to keep sheltered instead of spending months struggling against harsh winters and brutal summers. With new homes, people can use those months for much more if they weren't miserable and hurting. Many would find the energy they missed for so long and become stronger for it, and in turn work to build a stronger community. They would work better, eat better. They would have to time to sit and talk and dream of a better future. People can do that when they were not scrambling to survive.

The next year would be better for everyone, and their strength would grow. In ten years, after surviving an outside force of chaos and the coming changes from Arendelle, Corona and the Alliance, the Weselton nobility would find their influence drained. The people would become self-sustaining, and their newfound influence and confidence would surpass the upper class. New reformations to accommodate the changes would be created and a new and better government would be installed, and Weselton would become a symbol of the strength and freedom of the people. In thirty years, they would be accepted as good friends to the other kingdoms.

As for the Duke, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it, as he had too many problems of his own to deal with now. He was already minutes away from potentially losing everything.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _Back at the Duke's mansion…_

The nobility was in an uproar throughout the ballroom, all sense of festivity long forgotten. The cacophony of outraged shouts and indignant cries could be heard across the entire estate, with no one possessing any sense of an indoor voice.

"Milords! Milords! Please calm yourselves!" the Duke cried out, trying to hide the sweat gathering at his forehead. "My finest men are already in hot pursuit of the criminal, and I have every confidence that he will soon be custody!"

This brought quiet to a fair amount of the ruckus, but King Benjamin was not one of them as he stepped forward.

"I would not be so quick to claim success," he declared in a low voice. "Thieves of his caliber are nothing if not crafty and slippery, and Flynn Rider ranks amongst the most clever."

The Duke glared at the Glowerhaven monarch. "I shouldn't be surprised that you would have such confidence in the meager skills of a vagrant thief, majesty." Then something dawned on the man. "In fact, you're the reason why he even got in here in the first place! That invitation he used was meant for _your_ vassal! He could only have gotten it from _your_ palace! This is all because _you_ couldn't catch him!"

A grin was slowly rising from the corners of the Duke's mouth as he started to do what he did best at the first sign of pressure; point it at someone else. But King Benjamin was not so easily cornered.

"Do _not_ cast the blame at my feet," he swiftly countered. "Although your sentiment is quite accurate about that invitation being the key. Apparently, all it takes to fool your guards is a _piece of paper_! Are these the same men you hired to 'protect' everyone here? No wonder something as simple as a 'vagrant thief' was able to just waltz right in here and do as he pleased!"

The Duke blanched as his smug smile cracked. To the side, he could see all the other nobles watching the heated exchange with keen interest. He backtracked rapidly, as he simply could not afford to lose any more face.

"T-that's absurd! My guards are the best that money can buy! This shouldn't have even happened!"

"Oh, that's reassuring— _it can't have happened_!" Benjamin scoffed. "So the next time a criminal steals from us, I can just close my eyes and pretend it's my _imagination_! Don't you even understand what that man is capable of? Flynn Rider is smart, resourceful and he never wastes an opportunity. Don't you think it's strange that he spent several hours in this room, pretending to be a count and making idle chatter with everyone, instead of just going straight for the treasure room? Discussing business and politics offers no benefit for a vagabond like him."

The monarch narrowed his eyes as he delivered the final blow. "So the question you should really be asking is why did Rider, a master pickpocket and sleight of hand, stay in the ballroom all this time with so many nobles?"

A dead silence engulfed the entire room as the disturbing implication of King Benjamin's words sunk in. The Duke was starting to sweat uncomfortably as the answer slowly dawned on him. For a moment, no one moved. Then a baron reached tentatively down to his belt, only to find…

"What!? My pouch! My money pouch is gone!"

That set everyone off, as now every noble frantically checked their belongings.

"My purse!"

"My earrings! They were my grandmother's!"

"No! My rings! How could this happen!?"

"My wife's necklace is missing! That thief took her diamond necklace!"

"And my _brassiere_! H-he took my brassiere!"

"He was standing right in front of us!"

"How could he come so close to our person?"

"The Duke's men just let him in! What impudence!"

"That's right! What if it was an assassin? He promised he would protect us!"

"I've lost my house's heirloom because of this! This is an outrage!"

"I saw that man standing right before the Duke!"

"He spoke with him and he didn't even know!"

"Scandal! Incompetence!"

"If this is his absurd idea of security, I'm not signing over any investment to him!"

"And the statues! Those forgeries! He tried to trick us! With dirty scams and worthless security!"

"Most right! I'm heading home this very minute and we'll see what my sovereign thinks about this!"

Never before had the Duke of Weselton had looked so pale and horror-stricken as many of his guests began to storm out. He tried to call out to them with desperate reassurances, but all that came out was a dry gasp.

King Ben could only look watch with satisfaction as many now understood the truth. At the same time, he privately began to reconsider his opinion about the mystery of Flynn Rider. Reports were coming in from all over the city that the thief was throwing riches everywhere he went. While King Ben still wasn't happy about the stunt Flynn had pulled back in Glowerhaven, he still could not help but wonder: What kind of thief gave away money?

Furthermore, while he was far from amicable to the idea that Flynn Rider was able to indirectly accomplish what he could not, at least many now understood that there was no future with the Duke. With this, he turned back to the scrawny lord. "I hope you've learned your lesson tonight about how to care for your allies and the people," he said as he turned to leave as well. "You can expect to hear from the Alliance soon, and I imagine you'll have much to deal with from the nobility of the realm."

The Duke snapped out of his trance. "Don't think I'll forget about this, Benjamin! Regardless of what trivial losses have occurred tonight, I still have many friends in high places! No one will dare to cross me! I AM AT THE VERY TOP OF THE NOBILITY!"

"You _were_ at the top," the Glowerhaven monarch retorted over his shoulder. "Surprising as it may sound, the Alliance's problems don't revolve around what the world thinks of you, and you are but one man. If you want proof, just look outside! The masses out there are in such high spirits after Flynn Rider gave away entire fortunes without asking or demanding anything in return. The people have greater respect and admiration for an infamous criminal than they do for the Duke of _Weaseltown_."

"IT'S WESELTON! And don't tell me that the opinion of the peasant class is worth anything!" the Duke screamed after him. "Especially coming from someone whose grandfather married a simple country girl with _glass slippers_!"

King Benjamin the Second clenched his jaw at the jab towards his beloved grandmother, but soundly ignored the small man as he left through the double doors.

With most of his guests gone, the bravado fell from the Duke's face. His frantic mind went into overdrive as the ramifications hit him full force. Any chance at a personal partnership with the Alliance was gone forever. Many of the nobility would not forget his humiliation tonight, and that would bring numerous demands for recompense. A significant part of his standing amongst the nobility was his ability to ensure that his allies would continue to reap the financial windfall that was the very generous dividend that he paid out to his favored shareholders. If there were a shortfall that came from theft or, even worse, _fines_ that would now be applied to his revenues, he would soon lose even more face in the following weeks. He would be labeled as all but _persona non grata_.

As the Duke stood alone in the center of the empty ballroom, he summed up what was happening with a voice on the verge of breaking. "I'm… I'm ruined."

A few moments passed in silence. Then a thought occurred to him, one last hope. No, he wasn't through just yet. He still had plenty of money left, and he didn't come this far up the ladder for nothing. He could still recover his losses.

A slow grin spread under his mustache as a plan began to take root. In just under a year, Arendelle's Crown Princess Elsa would come of age and become Queen. Aside from Corona, Arendelle was the most reputed source of trade outside of the Alliance. The gates would finally be opened again, and he already had an invitation to discuss new commerce opportunities where he would have a chance to negotiate directly with the inexperienced child. If he pulled out every trick up his sleeve and smiled politely at every opportunity with her, he could secure a very advantageous contract. Even better, his sources told him that the closed doors of the Arendelle palace only accepted official news and only the most necessary of correspondence while gossip and rumors were ignored. Princess Elsa would likely not hear the worst about tonight, which increased his chances.

With the Jewel of the North in his pocket, the Alliance and the rest of the nobility would _have_ to do business with him if they wanted access to Arendelle's tradable goods. The Duke smiled as he straightened his jacket and spectacles. He wasn't out of the game just yet!

And then there was Flynn Rider. He wouldn't escape so easily. If the notorious outlaw could be caught and arrested in the Duke's domain, much of the damage control would take care of itself.

"Lieutenant Weeznod!"

"Yes, Your Grace!"

"Prepare an investigation, I want to know every detail within the hour of how that thief managed all this! In the meantime, send out every man we have! I want Flynn Rider found and brought before me tonight!" the Duke exclaimed as he straightened his glasses. "That man is responsible for everything that has happened here! He has made a laughingstock of my authority and he will pay in full for such insolence! Send the word out that I, the esteemed Duke of Weselton, am offering my own reward of _thirty thousand_ gold pieces on his head, dead or alive!"

Weeznod nearly choked at the vast amount. Thirty thousand?!

"And one other thing!" the Duke continued. "I want my carriage back! So help me, if that filthy thief puts even one _scratch_ on it…"

 **~o~O~o~**

"GANGWAY!"

 _Crash!_

The carriage barreled through a nearby fruit stand, smashing through the wood as juices of fresh squash, tomatoes, watermelon, plums and pineapple splattered across the carriage's pristine canvas.

"Sorry about the mess!" Flynn called back from the roof of the carriage as he tossed a large diamond to the stunned owner. "Whew, that was fun!"

The thief's gaze drifted as he looked at everything behind the carriage. When he had first arrived, everything was so sad and despondent. But tonight, on his last night, the entire city of Weselton was no doubt shining brighter than it had in years. He couldn't help smiling; he had done the right thing. And now it was time for him to leave.

"Alright Gem, if I remember right, we should be almost at the harbor. Nothing to worry abo—"

"SWORDFISH!" she cried.

"Wha— _HOLY!_ "

Flynn barely whipped around in time to see a rapidly oncoming giant swordfish hanging from a massive net of fish, with him right in the path of the sharp tip of its nose! He barely dropped back down through the carriage roof in time before the top of the carriage crashed through the hanging net and the giant swordfish pierced right through the canvas. The next thing he knew, a wide-eyed Flynn Rider had pressed back against the seats while the swordfish had ended up stuck halfway through the carriage with its sharp tip less than an inch from between his eyes.

"Sorry!" called a very apologetic Opal. "Flynn, are you alright?"

"I don't know," Flynn answered blandly, as he stared cross-eyed at the pointed edge. "Does alright mean wanting to scream, ' _Oh my god, oh my god, a swordfish almost went through my head_ '? If so, then yes. I am _very_ alright."

He could easily picture the mortified look on her face. With one finger, he gently nudged the giant swordfish's nose away from his face. After slipping his head out of the way, he grabbed his fancy overcoat, which was still laden with valuables. He may have given away everything he found in the Duke's private treasure room, but he still had the loot he had swiped from all the noble's pockets in the ballroom. Not to mention the precious bottle of Valhalla Nectar. It was still more than enough to call a win for himself tonight.

"This is far enough," he called. "We can't show up at the docks with a carriage like this!"

"More than you might think," she answered back sheepishly.

Flynn found out why as soon as the carriage stopped and he stepped out not a moment too soon. The entire top half of the carriage was now completely encased in the giant fishing net. The net was already bulging at the seams. Yet despite holding out for this long, at that moment it finally tore open. The entire shipment flooded out, and the Duke of Weselton's personal carriage was buried under a swamp of fish.

Some of them were still flopping around.

Flynn stared incredulously at the giant mess before glancing at Opal, who couldn't help but shrug embarrassed.

"Uhhh… oops?"

A few more seconds passed before the thief simply burst out laughing. "Oh boy, he's _never_ going to get the stink out! He's going to smell that tomorrow!"

His merry laugh at trouble was infectious, and it wasn't long before Opal also broke into laughter and wiped a tear at the thought of the Duke's face.

"Oh, he's not going to be happy," she managed through peals of laughter.

"Well, if the Duke isn't happy, that makes _me_ happy. Isn't balance _wonderful_?" Flynn said flippantly as he took Opal further down towards the docks. "Ah, if only every night was as much fun! Oh wait," he added with theatrical thought. "They are!"

About fifteen minutes later, they finally arrived at the harbor on foot, only for Flynn to have to hide themselves behind a stack of crates.

"Oh, terrific. There's more guards surrounding the harbor entrance. Yeah, I feel safer already."

"What? No, no! We're too close!" Opal exclaimed, the mirth from earlier vanishing. "We can't stop or go anywhere else now! Trust me, the Duke has probably gotten himself together and it won't be much longer before he has a small army guarding the docks! He _owns_ the police! We have to leave _tonight_!"

Flynn nodded carefully as he studied the guards over the distance between them with his sharp eyes, looking for gaps to sneak past. There were at least ten of them patrolling, armed to the teeth and looking as alert as ever. The alarm had clearly gone out, and they weren't going to let anything pass them. He cover as Count Mathis Gladstone was blown, so his disguise wouldn't work on the guards. He could sneak himself and probably even Opal past them just fine if he found a way through, but a horse like Triks was hardly inconspicuous.

He would have to get rid of the guards entirely somehow, long enough to find a ship that was already prepared to leave, negotiate passage with the captain without questions and then for the ship to actually depart. But how? He was fresh out of Boganti's ambergris gas, and they didn't have much time before more guards would arrive to completely lock down the entire harbor.

As Flynn pondered carefully, his sharp eyes drifted everywhere, searching for opportunity. Then his gaze drifted to the crates they were hiding behind. He took a small step back and looked them over, an idea starting to form as he noticed the shipping stamps of exotic origin.

"Don't worry, I've got another plan."

 _Guards are just **no** help to me. These crates on the other hand are good for something. They can hide people. That means the guards are worth less than crates! Which is, what, a few coins?_

Flynn chuckled as he approached one potential box to hide in, but immediately backed off when he heard the angry growl inside. "Whoa! Okay, not _that_ one…"

"Wait, are you going to try to sneak aboard in a box?"

"Of course not!" The thief grinned as he read the label on another crate. "I'm counting that nobody can resist taking a peek into one!"

"… Huh?"

 **~o~O~o~**

"Look alive, men!" called the sergeant. "There's a thief about and the Duke is offering a lifetime reward for his capture! We catch him, and we can all enjoy a very long and very early retirement!"

"Yeah, we'll get him!" answered one of the men. "Those guys up at the cushy mansion get too relaxed and comfortable, they're not down here facing the streets every day! No way he'll get past us!"

"Um… sir? Where did this come from?"

The men turned around to see a strange crate had appeared in the middle of their formation. They huddled around, staring at it in confusion.

"It's… It's a box."

"Glad to see you have such a firm grasp of the obvious!" snapped the sergeant. "Well, what's in it?"

"How should I know?"

"Open it, then!"

"Sir, how did that box just… appear out of nowhere? The label says that it's from Agrabah. That desert kingdom has all kind of strange stuff with genies and gypsies and… well, I'm not sure if we should mess with it."

"You're all a bunch of superstitious goats, and I thought I told you to stop spending late nights at the tavern! Never mind, I'll do it myself. Alright, now what do we ha— what's with the mask?"

The best bait for a trap was something that aroused curiosity, and the guards had fallen prey to it hard. A masked figure covered from head to toe in oriental robes and musty trinkets burst from the box, arms raised and cackling manically. " _HAHAHAHA! I'm free at last! Revenge will now be mine!"_

"GAAAAAAHH! MOTHER OF GOD, SAVE US!"

"Don't hurt me, spirit! I have so much left to live for!"

"Run for your lives!"

Every one of the guards dropped their weapons and ran like the devil himself was on their tails. The sergeant stood horrified for a brief moment before his eyes rolled up into white and he fainted on the spot.

After a moment, the masked figure dropped his arms. "Heh heh… once again, money _not_ well spent. Alright, Gem! The coast is clear!"

Opal came out from behind the stack of crates with wide eyes as Flynn started hefting off the mask and the musty robes. Was this night going to get any _weirder_? Because so it far it hadn't stopped. "I can't believe that actually worked!"

"Ha! You'd be surprised at what the unexpected can pull off!" Flynn laughed as he tossed the last of the Agrabah ornaments back into the box before turning towards the passed out sergeant lying prone on the ground. "See, this guy even fainted! Oh my, I think he even wet his… uh, wait… wait a minute. Oh no, no no no. This can't be!"

Opal's eyes snapped to the thief in concern. She hadn't heard him sound like this before as he slowly bent over the prone sergeant and pulled something out of the man's pouch.

Flynn stared as a look of horror came over him, eyes trembling. What he found was the lowest point of the night for him. Perhaps his entire visit to Weselton, despite everything he had seen. He hadn't felt this shocked since he found the bottle of Valhalla Nectar earlier, except this was quite the opposite. How could this have happened? Why? What had he done to deserve this?

It was a wanted poster. Of him. And the _nose_ was…

"Oh, come on! _Really_?!"

"What? What is it?" Opal exclaimed.

"This can't be happening to me. Oh gods, please _no_! Not this again! How can they do this?"

" _Do what_?"

Flynn showed her the poster. "Will they _ever_ get my nose right?"

Opal found that she had been right. This night could indeed get weirder. She honestly had no idea how to respond to this.

"I take the Nasaltown thing back! Seriously, I make fun of _one_ man's nose… I mean honestly, I take all that gold and this is all he can do? Give me some proper credit here, people!"

"Um, maybe we… maybe we should, you know, get on the ship so we can leave?"

"But I just…!"

"Will you come on already!?"

"Oh, fine!

With that, Flynn crunched up the poster and tossed it over his shoulder and donned his Gladstone disguise once more. Afterwards, it didn't take them as long as they had thought to find a good ship that was ready to leave, as the captain was quite eager to set sail. As it turned out, he had already wanted to leave early before getting pushed down the priority departure list for all the other nobles. He could get his shipping schedule back on track, and the price that the 'generous noble' offered for departure within the hour was a fine compensation for any sloppy rushes.

The captain also knew not to ask any questions of a noble. And while some might think it bad luck to have a woman onboard a ship, an offered sapphire the size of a thumb seemed to make superstitions abruptly vanish. _I don't ask, I bribe,_ Flynn thought cheekily.

Forty-five minutes later, after the ship made its final preparations, Flynn climbed up the stairs from the lower decks. He had wanted to make sure that Triks was nestled comfortably and eating plenty of healthy apples after the magnificent getaway they pulled off. He hadn't expected his cover to have been blown at the mansion, so the horse's aide in their escape had been nothing less than invaluable and he made sure the animal was well rewarded. Looking around the deck, he spotted Opal standing at the stern, gazing out at the city of Weselton as they slowly drifted out of port.

Unbidden, he again remembered the words from his idol that had spurred him to help Opal several hours ago: _Never forget the people around you. Be the best that you can be and all shall look up to you. Lend a hand to those around you, and they will carry you to greatness even as you carry_ them _to greatness, and you will learn from them even as they learn from you._

Flynn suddenly realized with a start that if he hadn't reached out to her as he did, he never would have heard about the Duke's treasure room. He would have simply walked out the front door with a few valuables and called it a night. But instead, he had made the acquaintance of a very fine and beautiful woman, stolen magnificent treasures, made fun of the untouchable Duke and had an exhilarating chase throughout the city! Tonight, he had followed both his conscience and his idol's wisdom to their fullest, and look at how fate had rewarded him! A night to remember for the rest of his days!

 _I've been following his words of wisdom for all these years to the highest extent, and they_ still _manage to find new ways to surprise me._ How much more was there to learn? What greater wonders awaited him? What more secrets of the great Flynnigan Rider were there to be learned?

"I guess it's still sinking in. I still can't believe we didn't do it. Um, _die_ , I mean," Opal breathed, bringing Flynn out of his thoughts. "It's over. I'm actually free. Free as the rising sun."

"Oh, I agree wholeheartedly, since I'm very pro-freedom," he answered. "And pro-sun. I like the sun!"

A smile split across Opal's cheeks, something she was starting to get used to. Everything had changed for her, so much in less than a night.

"I've never met anyone like you, Rider."

The thief chuckled again. "You mean you've never met a man so ruggedly handsome, startlingly brave and dazzlingly clever? And speaking of clever, I believe this belongs to you."

The man reached into his jacket and handed her a scroll of paper. Curious, the dancer took it and unfurled the paper. Her eyes skimmed across the script before slowly widening with dawning comprehension. "Is this… this is my employment contract! But the Duke kept this in his own pockets, how did you get…"

She trailed off as she glanced back at Flynn, realizing the question was self-explanatory.

Flynn just nodded sagely. "Without that, he can't declare it as fraud or mark you as a fugitive or anything like that. He won't be coming after you."

Opal decided she ought to stop being surprised tonight. Besides, she was actually free!

"But what about you? You've seen the meticulous lengths he goes to, he won't ever let this go."

Flynn smiled wryly. "There's a certain grumpy Southern Isles lapdog that would say otherwise. Nothing you have to worry about, Gem. And I didn't even need a kiss for luck!"

Opal did her best to hide her blush. "Um, well… yes! Yes, I guess there's that. But are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Will I be alright? Please!" Flynn blew a strand of hair out of his face. "Trouble loves me, but I just keep moving. Eventually, trouble gets tired of chasing and just gives up. I am a man who will forever scour the world in search for prizes and adventure! For me to give up all of that for something as silly as fear of the nobility? Hahaha! I would be a fool to do so!"

Opal was even more enchanted. She felt like singing out some wild song, something purely stupid like 'Please take me with you.' She couldn't help it. _He's worth being stupid over_ , she thought while glancing at the turn of his hips as he looked out at the city behind them.

"Oh, dash my strings! Your life seems a grand one, Rider! So full of adventure, how marvelous!"

Flynn smiled even more. "Just always remember that there is a vast gulf between what is impossible, and what is simply impossible to imagine."

He was so strong and confident. Opal wasn't surprised when she felt her heart beating faster and her body tightening. Her bosom tingled and she felt a growing warmth in her loins. She pressed her legs together tightly as her chest strained at her laces. She panted slightly, trying to pass it off as exhaustion from such an eventful and exciting night.

 _Seemingly_ unaware of her internal battle, Flynn suddenly looked thoughtful as he gazed out at the city. "Come to think of it, tonight was lacking in only one department…"

"You mean an actual escape route?" Opal smiled, still fighting the blush in her cheeks.

Flynn didn't miss a beat. "It was the _scenic_ route! Can't argue with the view! No, the only thing missing is a way to see the look on the Duke's face when he finds the note I left for him!"

Opal's blush was replaced with confusion. "What note?"

 **~o~O~o~**

 _Several hours later…_

" _My carriage_!"

A short while ago, his men had located his missing carriage down by the docks and were hauling it into his courtyard. It was completely ruined, with scratches and tears all over. Entire chunks of embroided carving were missing after the carriage's rough high-speed chase. The fine paint of the exterior was covered in squashed fruit splatters. The hand-sewn canvas ceiling was torn completely across, drooping inside. The interior was overflowing with dead fish. And to top it off, there was a giant swordfish sticking out of the top.

The Duke could only stare in stunned silence as he practically stumbled over to his precious carriage in shock, trying to comprehend the sight before him. For several long moments, his mouth wordlessly opened and closed like a Seahaven guppy fish while making obscure gestures with his hands as if he were trying to grasp some invisible object.

Eventually, he found his voice again. The one that was oh so accustomed to screaming at other people. "This is unacceptable! Where is Rider? Do you have him yet? Then where is he?!"

Lieutenant Weeznod shifted uncomfortably. "Your Grace, I-I don't know what to say. The men have scoured the city from top to bottom, but there's just no sign of him."

"I refuse to accept that! He can't simply be gone!" he screeched while holding his finger up. "I demand… _demand!_... an explanation!"

Suffice to say, what little they did know was already difficult to believe, even when they had seen it happen themselves firsthand. Apparently, Flynn Rider had raided the Glowerhaven royal palace a while ago, and stole himself an invitation to the Duke's party. Not only that, he evaded detection in Weselton for weeks, fashioned a disguise, infiltrated the party, posed as a convincing noble and talked business as if he had born into it. He also found his way to the treasure room, somehow smuggled out an immense load of treasure without notice, slipped past all the guards, made a fool out of the Southern Isles champion, escaped the palace and gave away all the gold he could before vanishing into thin air.

Who _was_ this man? How did he pull it off? Accomplishing even one of those feats was considered a near-impossibility. Doing them all in the span of a single night stretched all bounds of believability. It just… it just didn't happen!

"I still don't understand how Rider found his way to my private treasure room. How on earth did he manage to find it? My mansion is a maze for anyone who doesn't know their way around, especially without a map! It's inconceivable!"

Lieutenant Weeznod's face went two shades whiter and he did his very best not to look guilty. "Uh, yes, Your Grace! I have no idea how he did it. Flynn Rider is truly, ah, well connected. Very resourceful indeed!"

"Well, I suppose it's not as important now," the Duke grumbled. "What we should remember is the girl! Rider absconded with one of my dancers and her contract, and I want her found as well"

"Yes, sir!" the lieutenant agreed, relieved that the Duke had moved onto a different topic. "I'll have a search profile drawn up at once! But if you don't have any copies of her contract, then I'll still need her name."

"Of course, her name is Orsala," the Duke stated. Then he blinked. "Wait, no, that wasn't it. It was Oprella! Um, I mean Oscilla or… "

A look of small horror came over the tiny man's face as he realized he had never bothered to remember the dancer's name. The Duke held a gloved hand to his eyes and let out a resigned sigh. "Fine, forget about the wench. She's nothing important. Just tell me we have _something_ on Rider. _Anything_!"

"Well, we do have an eye-witness testimony, such as it is. Would you like to speak to the witnesses?"

"Alright, lead the way. I want to know exactly what happened tonight!"

 **~o~O~o~**

"So, it was _you lot_ who were supposed to be watching the corridors?" the Duke demanded. "What were you doing all this time? Why didn't you catch him?!"

The thirteen guards didn't respond. In fact, they didn't even appear to have heard him as they were still slumped over the card table, snoring heavily.

"Were you gambling _and_ sleeping on duty?" the Duke accused as he grabbed one by the ears and lifted his face up. "Answer me!"

The drunken guard's cheeks slowly puffed up before belching in the man's face. The Duke gagged and turned green from the smell of grog.

 **~o~O~o~**

"NO! You work for _them_!" cried the wild-eyed Boganti, having once again breathed a little too much of his chemicals. "You're an agent of the seagulls and their nefarious plans for us! Well, you won't have me! I will never talk! _Neveeeeeeerrrrrrr_!"

 **~o~O~o~**

The two nine-year old street children were still delighted over having food and plenty of silver coins to spare. They had been told by the nice man who gave them their new money to expect a show near the shiny mansion and climbed up on some of the nearby rooftops. They had seen the whole thing, and were only too happy to tell the Duke what had happened.

"… and that's when some guy smashed through the window of the tallest tower while carrying a girl! She was so pretty! And then, that guy with the girl, he leapt from tower that was, like, a hundred stories tall and landed safely on the ground without a scratch! It was awesome!"

"And then, that guy got into a magical carriage filled with buried treasure! And then, his noble stead rode them away into the night! He was all like, 'Yipee-ki-yay!'"

"You should have seen how he leapt from the tower! He could fly!"

"Nu-uh! He was on a rope! He's a _ninja_!"

"You're dumb!"

"No, you are!"

 **~o~O~o~**

"He was on a secret mission for the king," Boganti rambled on as he sniffed wildly. "He knew the invasion had to be stopped and so he came to his trusted ally the admiral, undeterred by the threat of the invisible crabs in his way! And even in the face of such terrible odds, he refused to accept any tools that could bring harm to our friends the mermaids! A brave and noble lad indeed, he will never fail His Majesty! God Save the King!"

Then Boganti's eyes glazed over and looked around his shop.

"Um, what was I just doing? Can I get back to making my gas now? _I just have so much gas_!"

 **~o~O~o~**

"It was so cool! And then that one part, where the big guy with a sword climbed up the back of the carriage and then the OTHER guy with a sword jumped out and dueled the big guy to the death! His sword was so fast!"

"Bam! Swish! Pow!"

"YAHOO!"

 **~o~O~o~**

"Don't look into the box, don't look into the box, don't look into the box…" the sergeant rocked back and forth, chanting his own little mantra.

 **~o~O~o~**

The Duke held his face in his hands. "Please tell me that these are not our only witnesses."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace, I'm afraid this is all we have. You cannot fathom my shame, sir. However, we did search the carriage more thoroughly and…"

" _Lieutenant_. I've seen everything I need to from what he did to my carriage. Don't. **_Test me_**."

"… and we found a note, sir. We're not sure what to make of it."

The Duke stilled, and his immense frustration momentarily turned to confusion as he raised an eyebrow. "What note?"

The lieutenant tentatively handed him a slip of paper. The Duke unfurled it and adjusted his glasses as he peered closely at the lettering that read: ' _The Flynn Rider Private Island Fund thanks you for your generous donation._ '

Everyone could swear they heard something snap inside the Duke's brain. He stared at the note for several moments before slowly nodding. "Ah. I see."

With that, he simply folded the slip of paper back up and calmly creased the bend between his gloved fingers before handing it back to a bewildered Weeznod and fondly patted the man on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

"Very good, very good. Now, I'm going back to my bedchambers where I will have a few drinks and then fall asleep. When I wake up, this will all have been a very, very stupid dream. Good night, lieutenant. Good night."

 **~o~O~o~**

A wide grin split Flynn's face as he stepped back out on the ship's deck. He had done it. Weselton was now several leagues behind them, far out of sight. Opal was fast asleep in her quarters after such an eventful night, but he couldn't resist coming back out to take in the moment to breathe in the fresh night air.

 _Ah, nothing like a night under the stars after a job well done, especially after ruining a huge jerk's day in the process._

The temperature had become lower as well and he shivered before rubbing his hands to relieve the slight chill that was slowly accumulating at his fingers. This was when most people would usually be back in the safety of their home where they could take a hot bath and change into clean clothes to remove themselves of the daily grime and retire to warm, comfy beds and blankets to start the next day anew. But not him. He was out here, living his own way far out on the horizon.

This was the kind of experience that had once been confined to his dreams and here he was living it out. The dust residue that covered his disheveled clothes from the chase, the newly-formed callouses at his hands from swinging his sword, and even the exhaustion he was feeling was… it felt _good_ ; a different kind of satisfaction that was better than anything else.

And who knew what would happen next?

As he paced around the front of the ship, looking out at the distant sea, he thought about their course. After speaking more with the ship's captain once the city of Weselton was out of sight, Flynn had wanted to go straight to Arendelle. Sure, it would be easier that way to get a jumpstart on his plans to one day sneak into the royal palace and see what he could find there for himself, but now he also had to think about Opal and where she could go. He had plenty of experience in disappearing, and Arendelle would be an easy place for her to start a new and comfortable life.

But the captain had many shipments that were already overdue to be delivered to another kingdom, and he had no intention of deviating from that schedule. So here they were, on fast course for… what was it again? Ah, yes, the kingdom of Corona.

Well, it wasn't as high up on Flynn's list of 'Places-I-Must-Visit', he had heard plenty of good things in his travels about the Kingdom of the Golden Flower. It was a bright and wonderful place to live. Much like Arendelle and the Alliance kingdoms, the laws of Corona were fair, the taxes were reasonable and the king and queen were beloved by the people. They had some of, if not _the_ , finest agriculture and farming lands in all the realms. Their cooks were amongst the best in the world and their food trade had always been the greatest in the lands even if it had a noticeable dip in recent years. And apparently, if Flynn had heard the news correctly, Corona was getting ready to host an annual event of theirs, something called the 'Day of the Lost Princess'. It sounded like a holiday. There were bound to be all kinds of things for him to do.

Besides, as he had heard, Corona had always been a close friend of Arendelle. It wouldn't be difficult at all to find passage to the Jewel of the North from there. In the meantime, it sounded like Flynn might have plenty to see and entertain himself with while he would be staying there. Well… perhaps the trip to Arendelle could wait. Who knew what might happen during his stay in Corona?

 _Our ignorance of what is to come is a gift, as it allows us to treasure the thrill and prospect of the unknown. Do not simply go where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail._

 _Oh yes!_ A wave of exhilaration surged through him as a small wave struck the prow of the ship, sending a spray of seawater to sprinkle Flynn's face. This had been one of the greatest nights of his life, and he knew he would never forget it. Tonight, he had dared to do what no one else even imagined was possible. In one night, he had stolen entire fortunes, saved a beautiful woman, laughed in the Duke's face and had now escaped from the King of Glowerhaven _twice_. Even when the odds were against him and things had gone wrong, fate was on his side every time without fail and seemed to outright _refuse_ to abandon him. Who else in the world could make such a claim? What greater example was there that fortune favored the bold?

What is it that makes someone reach beyond the boundaries of human experience? To face the wonders of the unknown? As children, we eagerly question the world around us and look upon everything with eyes full of wonder. We learn, we accept and gradually we lose our ability to wonder. But some do not. The travelers, the brave and the daring, it is these pioneers who embody the very spirit of mankind. More than anyone, these adventurers and pioneers understood the winds that stir humanity from within. In the face of adventure, you ride full sail at the cutting edge of the world with everything to lose and everything to gain! How could Flynn Rider not want such a life? And that was why he took up the name of Flynn Rider. By taking it up, he knew he would one find the drive he sought.

Smiling, Flynn remembered more of his idol's words, one piece of wisdom in particular that he cherished and longed for above all else.

 _Put your faith in what you most believe in. When the day finally arrives that you find a way to live that you can truly be proud of, you will be thrust into your own grand adventure. You will find the treasure that makes the adventure of life worth living and fighting for._

So full of spirit, this was what Flynn lived for. To find that special treasure. To feel so alive at the edge and do what no one else could. To live with the mightiest heartbeat. Nothing to drive him on but thrill and ambition. _The release of freedom!_

With a great laugh, Flynn knew what would make this moment perfect. He headed straight for the ship's rigging, and while he was not a sailor, he eagerly climbed up the ropes until he reached the top of the sailing mast. Holding onto the ropes with one hand, he carefully found his balance atop the sail mast and stood – _heroically!_ – as he looked at a compass he had 'borrowed' from the captain and looked out at the horizon.

He felt a tug of the wind in his hair. Smiling at the sensation, he looked up towards the heavens. Flynn had always loved the stars, how they shined like the finest gems above the rest of the world that everyone admired and wrote legends about. He admired the full moon sparkled beautifully off the ocean waves. It was perfect. There were nights such as this where the stars that could be seen as clear as crystal, so inviting in their promise of flight and freedom, made Flynn's spirit soar and imagine the impossible. This was the adventure of his life, to hold great treasures and do what no else could. To feel as strong and free as thunder over the land. Racing the eagle, soaring with the wind.

One day… one day he would have his private island and crack open that bottle of Valhalla Nectar. To build a home for himself on an island, it wasn't just a material prize to him, a simple mark of achievement. No, what having his own island really meant for him was to have a place out of the reach of everyone else. Ever since he was a child back in the orphanage, he wanted a place where the great powers and authorities that controlled his life could never get to him at all. He could have a _home_ that no king or lord would **_ever_** have power over.

 _Always remember that even when arriving at your destination, the journey isn't over. You find yourself in a land of opportunities that won't keep you restrained to one point._

Flynn nodded. Now **that** was freedom. With his own island, he could establish a new life for himself and create a path that would be his own and not one that others decided for him. He would be free to make his own choices. There would be no one to tell him no, or where to go. He would be _one with the wind and sky_. There would be no right, no wrong, and no rules for him. Flynn would be free… _forever_.

One day.

Until then, Flynn Rider knew there was still much to do and see. And the next stop in his journey was the Kingdom of the Golden Flower.

 _Hmmm… Corona_ _ **.**_

Even if Corona wasn't where he sought to travel next, he had a good feeling about it. It was the same feeling he had felt that had always led him well through life. His 'hawk-like' sixth sense that always steered him clear of disaster and guided him to the great opportunities of fortune, adventure and happiness that he lived for. As he thought about what Corona might have in store for him, something about it made him feel excited.

Whatever awaited him in Corona, he was ready for it.

* * *

 **Well, that was fun! What a night of excitement for Flynn Rider! And now the Weselton arc is done, and we are finally off to Corona! Guess who we'll be seeing next?**

 **Disclaimer: The characters and events of Tangled and Frozen are owned by Disney. Everything else is mine.**

 **Thanks to all who have to come to see this, and an especial thanks to any who review, fave and follow! Those are what inspire me to keep going. As always, your comments, thoughts and constructive criticism is appreciated and welcomed. Til next time!**


	5. The Flower Awakens

**The Flower Awakes**

 _"The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart."_

 _\- Helen Keller_

Dawn had come again. It was an especially beautiful morning, even for the sunny land of Corona.

The gleaming sun had risen above the horizon over yonder, light spilling across the vast regions and territories of Corona bright and sunny. Golden sunlight streamed down through the rafters of the buildings, and the trees seemed to absorb the golden light, transforming the natural shades of green and brown into gilded leaves and bark. Birds chirped merrily as they perched on tree branches or flew through the air in search for food. Green leaves danced softly in the early breeze, while the clean waters of the ocean sparkled in the morning light shining down from a clear blue sky.

Stretching on for many miles, the land of Corona was covered with expansive and breathtaking country landscapes, with numerous houses dotting across the hills. The entire countryside was growing with plants and flowers, rich with fertile land and fresh air that was crisp and clean, but not cool. Several great mountain ranges crossed its surface, their snowcapped peaks rising toward its sapphire blue sky. Clear and blue river streams ran genially from the mountains throughout the surrounding landscape with a pleasant ebb and flow. The weather was still impeccable from the tranquility of the bygone night, but now things looked even more at peace with nature.

Farmers worked away in their fields, while light smoke billowed from a few chimneys into the air. Mills were spinning, and the sound of fresh water was flowing all the while. A group of early-risen farmers drove their wagon of goods down a winding dirt road through the clustered buildings of an old town. They traveled further on past many, many other farmlands as they finally came to approach a great stone bridge that led across a large ocean inlet to the kingdom's island capital. Looming over all this was the magnificent palace, its turquoise roofed towers and white walls standing majestic in the center of the island. Seagulls were circling overhead, their calls faint on the air.

Past the capital's borders, a bright and almost ethereal other world lived on beneath the sparkling ocean surface. With the morning light slowly sweeping across the horizon, creating rays of light breaking through the surface, all manners of sea life shined with a new hue and luster. Underwater forests of coral reefs and rich seaweed swayed over the rocks, and great schools of colored minnow fish swam about in the gentle currents. A group of bat rays flapped their fins as they glided over a bed of brain coral, searching for tasty crabs. Muted shadows passed over the ocean life as small fleets of merchant ships smoothly sailed through the tranquil waters into harbor, bringing new visitors and wares to Corona.

To herald the new dawn and the new day begun, the massive brass bells of the palace began to ring across the kingdom for all to hear. It roused many from their peaceful slumber, ready to start a new day of honest work and enterprise. The loving light of the sun soaked the people with cheer and kindness as it did the earth with life and warmth. Such was the effect a sunny day had on the inhabitants of such a peaceful and beloved kingdom.

It was indeed a beautiful morning in paradise.

But this slice of heaven also had a lost secret hidden somewhere within it, jealously secreted away from the world.

Deep within the vast forests of Corona, through a labyrinth of saplings and undergrowth, there lay a peaceful and thriving valley of the greenest of trees, sparkling rivers and walks of both flora and fauna that seemed more vibrant, spirited and healthier than any other in the kingdom. Birds happily sang almost lyrically long into the day and night, teaching their children to fly with their wings and how to sing their own form of carols. A small herd of white-tailed deer drank peacefully from a brook; a mother doe lovingly stroking its fawn.

Even further into this valley, a warren of rabbits joyfully skipped through the soft grass in their morning search, each of the unusually large litters with as many as twenty kits. As the small rabbit colony passed by an alcove between two massive oak trees, one of the kits paused. She stood upright on her hind feet, curiously sniffing an inconspicuous curtain of green foliage against an enormous rock wall. She looked closer, her small little nose constantly twitching as she investigated the oddly placed hedge of shrubbery. Something seemed to be just beyond, tickling her senses at the edge of perception. She had felt this before, as had most of the wildlife in this region over the years. The creatures, far more in tune with nature than man had been for millennia, had sensed the presence and flourished in the valley. It was subtle but also potent, like the first breezes announcing a coming rainfall. A welcoming presence that stirred an old primordial instinct, a soothing warmth that felt like being cradled lovingly by her mother.

The small rabbit leaned closer, drawn to such a wonderful sensation of affection and comfort, reaching out with a paw as if to reach through the green curtain. Then it snapped back as she remembered her own family, and quickly took off to rejoin with her brothers and sisters to follow mother. The lost secret of Corona would remain undiscovered today.

Just beyond the veil that now lay undisturbed was a long and dark cave that tunneled through the wall of rock. But no matter how dark and cold the stone cavern felt, there was a brilliant ray of sunlight waiting at the end of the tunnel. On the other side through this light, there was a magnificent alcove in the center of the stone hill.

It was a hidden grotto that seemed like a tiny corner of Eden. It was filled with a great meadow of grass, flowers and even trees of fruits that were teeming with life, along with glistening creeks of crystal clear water streaming from a resplendent waterfall in the distance. And settled in the center of this grotto was a single circular tower made of square stones and wrapped in ivy, surrounded by nature and sheltered by the protection of high rock walls.

It was here that the lost secret was hidden.

Almost anyone would be delighted to have a home in such a beautiful sanctuary. For one to have their own private slice of paradise, away from any worries of society and to make their own life where their only worries were their own, it seemed like a wonderful place to live. But sadly, even on this beautiful morning in paradise, not every creature under the sun in Corona felt peaceful.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _The time of year was coming again…_

 _The time when it was always the same dream…_

 _Always the same nightmare…_

 _A blurred disc of gold hanging above…_

 _Eyes bulging with envy, reaching with shadowed hands…_

 _" **Flower gleam and glow** … **"**_

 **~o~O~o~**

The inside of the tower was as silent as snow, a keen contrast to the bright and animated atmosphere brought by its longest dwelling inhabitant. But in a hidden corner of its highest room, a small shadow stirred with its own purpose. If one looked carefully enough, it would seem as if a tiny fragment of one of the paintings that covered the walls moved away from its eternal place. Then the moving shape took on a different color and shade to match the surroundings of its new hiding place.

The creature snuck through the shadows on silent feet, careful not to alert its prey. He moved through his surroundings with a graceful ease that came from many years of hide-and-seek, masterfully blending with his surroundings that any predator would be jealous of. Of all the countless diverse creatures in the animal kingdom, very few among them could match the inherent talent for covert action and masquerade tactics of the chameleon. Drawing near to his goal, he took off like a shot across the strange purple moss that covered the ground here, jinking back and forth as he moved. He was almost there. Just a little further.

He disappeared beneath the bed, slinking all the way to the back wall where he expertly climbed up the spindly bed post until he was just above the pillows. Poised and in position to strike, his predatory gaze eyed the slender humanoid shape resting peacefully beneath the waves of long golden hair that covered the entire bedframe like silk blankets. The steady rising and falling from the shape signaled calm and relaxed breathing, completely unaware of the shadowy stalker. The chameleon let out a few cheeky hisses of anticipation, and then he pounced.

He immediately slipped into the soft golden tresses, moving about with playful glee.

A beat. And then—

" _YEEEEEE!"_

—came a sudden yelp as the shape jolted and lurched under the masses of hair, before it was soon followed by peals of symphonic laughter that would be a sweet delight on anyone's ears. The shape squealed and twisted, hysterically squirming about until a young woman in a cream-colored tunic finally sat up from underneath with half-lidded eyes staring at the assailant resting atop her dainty hand.

"Hah, hah… whew," she breathed heavily. "Is… is this the only way you think you can win?"

The chameleon simply gave her a smug smile.

"Don't you give that look, Pascal!" the girl teased as she laid back down. Her voice had a soft quality to it, like warm silk. "You really think that counts as playing hide-and-seek?"

The response was a sagely nod. So that's how it was going to be? Well, two could play at that game.

"Maybe you're right, you sure surprised me out of my wits." Then she raised a naturally-plucked eyebrow. "So much that I might not even be able to remember some things for today. Like breakfast, I think?"

Pascal froze, staring at her with wide eyes.

"I could have sworn there was something about peach slices… but maybe it should have been broccoli?"

The lizard turned to a terrified yellow, frantically shaking his head with pleading eyes to not take his peaches away!

She couldn't take it anymore, her other hand shot up to her mouth to keep from giggling too hard at the sight. "Oh, don't you worry, I'm fine Pascal! Just promise not to do that anymore and I'll even give you a few strawberries."

Pascal's limbs gave out from under him as the yellow seeped back to his natural green, letting out a great gasp of relief like he just escaped his worst nightmare. The girl's melodic laugh soon receded as she closed her eyes again to relax into the pillow for a few more moments, letting the unease from her dark dream fade away.

As the birds chirped in the excitement of the morning, their innocent sounds roused her again from her slumber. Sighing happily, she gave Pascal a tender scratch atop his head before rolling out of bed. For hours she had slept peacefully, and now the sun had risen enough for its light to shine down through the ceiling rafters to illuminate the entire room just as she began to stand. If anyone were present to behold the young woman known as Rapunzel stretching in the sunlight, many would believe her to be nothing less than the daughter of an angel. Her naturally divine beauty and warm aura could not be explained otherwise.

With her eighteenth birthday approaching, Rapunzel was a lovely young girl on the cusp of blossoming. A heart-shaped face sculpted by a goddess over the years, with high cheekbones like rosy sugarplums and lush pink lips with a natural smile. Skin so fair and golden-touched without a single blemish or imperfection, and beautiful green almond-shaped eyes that sparkled like gems in contrast with her polished skin. Her features were smooth and flawless with a soft delicacy that seemed almost criminal to even touch. The rest of her petite frame was perfectly proportioned as well with a modest chest, narrow waist, well-shaped hips and slender legs.

But nothing could compare to Rapunzel's magical hair; a long waterfall the color of corn silk and shiny as spun gold, the thick locks cascaded over her shoulders and down her back in rich inviting tresses, framing her elfin figure like a golden halo. Over the years, her enchanted hair had steadily grown to the impossible length of _seventy feet_. Despite such an overextended measurement, it still remained thick and bouncy even as it lengthened. Everything about its nature seemed to defy the laws of both physics and biology.

Or was it perhaps allowed to do just so by the world?

Rapunzel straightened up and strode to her window and opened the shutters, inviting the daylight fully into her room as she leaned against the balcony's stone railing, basking in the sweet morning of the valley. The summer wind washed over her like an ocean wave gently sweeping over a rock. The rays of the sun hit her body, and her skin drank it in. As the sun touched her, Rapunzel shivered as a faint shimmer of golden light traveled down her hair. If you were attuned to the rhythmic patterns and mystical shifts of the world, you could see what looked like an aurora borealis shining through her skin, as if she glowed in echo of the sun's light. Rapunzel relaxed, closing her eyes with a small smile on her lips and let herself fade. Her body breathed in sharply as the familiar phantom sensation poured through her, like being embraced by an old friend.

She shivered, squirming and then smiled as the warm light washed over her almost lovingly. Her eyes fluttered open, staring directly into the morning sunlight. Most people would instinctively avert their eyes from the blinding light, but Rapunzel wasn't most people. No matter how long she would gaze, it never hurt her eyes or even give her sunburn. To her, it only had the same intensity as staring into a fireplace. Her weary limbs gained strength and she lifted her welcoming arms towards the sun, a beaming smile on her face, once again joyous at a new day.

"Good morning!" she greeted the world.

With a captivated reverence that never went away, Rapunzel watched the sun slowly rise above the horizon. The light spilled forth between the mountains, painting the gray clouds in brilliant shades of rose, purple and gold. The eastern stars quickly faded into the deep blue of the morning sky. Soon the night would have passed completely, giving birth to a bright new day. As nature came to life with the sunrise, she couldn't help but smile even more widely. Just for the heck of it, she spun around a bit on the balcony, taking in the fresh air and letting out a soulful laugh of joy. After all, the best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even heard but must be felt with the heart.

Rapunzel glanced down to see Pascal climbing right up next to her on the balcony's rail, smiling along with her. "Isn't it wonderful, Pascal?" she asked as she lifted him up. "Every morning is a fresh beginning! Every day is the world made new. Today is a new day!"

As he trilled in agreement, delighted to see his dearest friend so happy, Pascal turned a loving shade of pink as he nuzzled against her cheek.

He had been with her for over ten years now, ever since that fateful night when a snake took away his mother when he was but an infant. The serpent had chased him through the woods in a terrible storm until he found himself near a hidden tower, where he heard the most beautiful sound and felt an aura of soothing comfort that made the cold from the rain seem to go away. It was a feeling just like he once felt with his mother. In the tower, he had found the young Rapunzel who then repelled the snake and saved his life without a second. When she sang her special song to heal him, he felt an unknown yet familiar instinct deep in his bones that reached into an old primordial memory first held by his long-gone predecessors, sensing that the human before him was connected to the world in special ways unlike any other. But like himself, she was alone. Even so, she offered to let him stay with her, to become best friends. From then on, they became lifelong companions for every day since.

And now here he was, looking into those sparkling green eyes that held benevolent kindness and open wonder, as well as a hint of light hearted mischief. Rapunzel had become a sister to him, a second mother and his dearest friend.

And as Rapunzel looked back into his eyes, it was moments like these that made her always so bright and joyful. It made her heart feel light, and the expression of such happiness rose effortlessly from the heart in the form of vocals. Rapunzel looked at her surroundings, she was the only one awake and nobody could hear her. With a sneaky smile, Rapunzel stood up and opened her mouth.

 **(Rendition of 'The Sky and the Dawn and the Sun' from Celtic Woman)**

Ever since she learned the special song for her hair, she loved to sing. Sometimes, she would just make a song on that spot. It was a very rare and unusual gift she possessed, one she preferred to do in private, aside from Pascal of course. Rapunzel walked around the room, letting her mind drift off as her soulful and soprano voice was heard. At first, she quietly sang wordless notes, rising and falling in perfect pitch like water in a river. Soon, Rapunzel finally built up to a soft melody and then she truly started to sing.

 _High was the moon last night_

 _Hiding its guiding light, high_

 _High was the moon last night_

 _Hiding its guiding light, high_

Her beautifully pure voice was as clear as cut crystal with a harmonious resonance. Anyone who would have heard her enchanting singing voice would have a hard time believing that she was indeed not an angel or a siren of lore.

 _Heaven and earth do sleep_

 _Still in the dark so deep_

 _I will the darkness sweep_

Rapunzel coasted back inside through her bedroom and then smoothly slid down the staircase railing to the main living room, quickly setting an eager Pascal down on a nearby table as he watched her with a wide-open smile. It was the same singing voice that once drew him to her tower so long ago. The chameleon felt a familiar sense of growing anticipation, as if something wonderful was approaching.

 _I will the moon to flight_

 _I will the heavens bright_

 _I will the earth delight_

The golden-haired beauty softly harmonized a few vocals that slowly built in pitch as she cheerfully took a broom, spinning around happily in place, ready to start her day. Reaching the crescendo, her voice grew higher and more beautiful as she hit the higher notes as if it were second nature to her.

 _Open your eyes with me_

 _See paradise with me_

 _Awake and arise with me_

Her harmonious singing slowly grew louder as she moved about with more energy in her step, dancing happily like a child around the room. Rapunzel began to spin, leap and skip with flair and elegance, letting herself free even while she worked. Whenever a song fills your heart, all tasks and chores suddenly become the simplest things in the world. She and Pascal went about the daily routine of sweeping, mopping, dusting, waxing and washing the dishes with enthusiasm and ease, moving with the rhythm of her song. Rapunzel carried herself with a natural and almost effortless grace. So much so, in fact, that her bare feet touched the stone flooring with the utmost gentleness, soft and delicate as a trail of kisses.

 _I am the dawn, I'm the new day begun_

 _I bring you the morning, I bring you the sun_

 _I hold back the night and I open the skies_

 _I give light to the world, I give sight to your eyes_

Without a care in the world, Rapunzel continued to spin and dance, letting all of her feelings show. Her chores already all done, the beautiful blonde leapt over to Pascal and lifted him high in a spin. For a moment, the constant momentum carried her hair along through the air, spinning all around her in a swirling vortex of gold like a form of incredible ribbon dancing. This was who Rapunzel truly was, letting the real her shine and her real heart be heard, even if it was just the two of them alone.

 _From the first of all time, until time is undone_

 _Forever and ever and ever and ever_

 _And I am the dawn and the sky and the sun_

 _I am one with the Light, and I am the dawn_

The rhythm began to gradually ebb and fade away. Rapunzel slowed down, and so did her song, until she stood in place in the center of the room and her hair fell around her in circles as softly as a feather.

 _I am the sky and the dawn and the sun_

 _I am the sky and the new day begun_

 _I am the sky and the dawn and the…_

 _Sun…_

The young woman slowly drifted off as she brought her song to a close. Both she and Pascal slightly slouched, breathing heavily as their energy was spent as their gazes locked onto each other.

"Wow…" Rapunzel panted with a radiant smile on her face. "That was a big one, huh?"

Pascal nodded enthusiastically with a wide smile as well. Nothing made her happier than seeing one she cared for to feel as happy as she was. It was so uplifting, she wanted moments like these to last forever.

"I just… I-I can't believe that the time is almost here!" she exclaimed. "Just a few more days until my birthday! It'll be my biggest chance Pascal, so we better make sure everything is perfect. Alright, you know what to do?"

The chameleon actually stood on his hind legs as he gave her a proud salute, as if to say, 'Let's get to it!'

Without another word, the two friends went in different directions for a different task. Rapunzel grabbed a few silks and fabrics from her closest along with her scissors, sewing needle and threads. She then got back to finishing a little dress project that she had spent a considerable amount of the week sewing together all the navy-blue materials. Thread by thread and carefully stitching it together, cutting out the pattern snip by snip, and primed and pressed. All she had left to do this morning was the jewel neckline before it was finally ready at last! This was the artistic craft of her dressmaking, and she was sure it was one of her best designs yet!

As Rapunzel was putting the finishing touches on her little project, Pascal had darted over to the kitchen area and started his own work to help clear the table and counters. Anyone who observed his work would quickly see that he was not a typical chameleon nor a simple-minded animal as he consistently acted with a clear cognitive understanding of his surroundings like most humans, despite having never been trained. Pascal picked up used forks and spoons and then placed them in the sink. Next, he took a wet cloth and scrubbed most of the dishes clean. And finally, he went to push open several cupboard doors and started pulling out certain foods, ingredients and utensils that his best friend would need for making today's breakfast. The little chameleon even managed to push aside a basket of fresh apples to the far side of the kitchen counter with only moderate difficulty, an effort that belied his small stature.

It wasn't long before Rapunzel had added all of her finishing touches to the dress. Coming back down from her room, she easily lassoed a long lock trail of golden hair around one of the ceiling rafters and slid down like on a rope.

"It's finally ready, Pascal!" she beamed. "Now we just need to make sure the morning meal is order…"

With that, the two friends went every which way at the counter in perfect synchronicity as though they had done this a thousand times before. Rapunzel did all the baking while Pascal set everything up and got her whatever tool or ingredient she needed. The young woman didn't even need to specify what she needed. As soon as she finished one step, she only needed to wordlessly hold out an open hand and Pascal would already have the needed ingredient ready for her like a well-rehearsed theater. Flour and butter, chocolate icing, _the yeast is rising_ , just a pinch of sugar.

"And again…" Rapunzel thought out loud as she pursued the culinary perfection of her favorite kind of cupcakes. "One more mix of flour… a little more sugar, and just a pinch of salt!"

After a few minutes, she lifted a small spoon to taste the batter. Her pink lips puckered up ever so slightly, her tongue just peeking out to let the sweet flavor run over her sensitive and experienced palate.

 _Hmm… needs just a touch of vanilla… oh, and some brown sugar!_

Rapunzel could count on one hand the number of things she loved more than singing, and baking was one of her absolute favorites! She made the best kinds of food and especially deserts filled with rich tastes, tantalizing aromas and the most delectable flavors that would send your senses on a trip through dreamland. After spending many years in the tower with the kitchen as her best source of trying new things, Rapunzel became as much of an artist in the kitchen as she was at painting.

And now the special treats she had made in addition to the fruity breakfast were ready to be served!

 _Ah, cupcakes! So sweet and tasty! This morning really is going to be just—_

A slight shift from the cheerful atmosphere. A small movement in the background with the sound of soft footsteps. At her side, Pascal suddenly shivered, starting at his nose and passed through his tiny body. It traveled like a visible wave over his neck, down his back and ending with his tail erratically tapping against the table. Then he darted away with startling speed to a dark corner on a shelf, his colors seamlessly shifting to conceal himself in the shadows.

For some reason, Pascal always hid whenever Gothel arrived.

Rapunzel stilled as she heard Mother coming down the stairs, and then she sighed in _relief_. Mother was finally awake! The young angel had been worried sick, Mother had been gone yesterday longer than she had promised. She was so worried that something might have happened. Mother didn't come back until very late; completely exhausted, barely a word to Rapunzel and went straight to bed.

As always, Rapunzel felt her heart go out to Mother. The world outside the tower was such a dark and cruel place, it was no wonder that she was so worn out. She had no idea what her mother did out there, but to both survive _and_ make your own way out in the outside world as well as Mother always did had to be simply _exhausting_. But she was such a thoughtful and caring person, she didn't deserve such hardship! Rapunzel sometimes felt so sorry and terrible for her mother's burden that she felt like crying.

But this was exactly why she had to make the best for her. With all the hard work she surely did out there, Mother deserved all the best love and tender care she could give. And so, Rapunzel turned with a bright smile to greet her.

Mother Gothel slowly came down the stairs in a sleepy daze and covering a wide yawn with the back of her hand. The tall and slender woman stretched lazily, working out the kinks from a deep sleep. Her silk red robe did little to hide her highly appealing contours that would make almost any man drool over.

But at the moment, she received a very different kind of attention as a blur of gold suddenly came out of nowhere and latched onto her arm. " _Ohmpf!_ "

"Mother, I'm so glad you're back! Good morning!"

Gothel had her own room out of the sunlight for a reason; so she could get her beauty sleep uninterrupted and dread the start of the day instead of having it cheerfully barge into her room. Startled out of her morning drowsiness, a practiced Gothel quickly bit her tongue to keep from groaning aloud before she turned to sweetly smile down at the girl.

"Oh darling… it's not _nearly_ as good as knowing that you'll always be here to welcome your dear mother every day! You must have missed me _so much_ ," the woman cooed as she wistfully stroked a long golden lock of Rapunzel's hair. "And I just cannot describe how glad I am to see you again, my sweet little Flower."

Rapunzel happily smiled back. But just before she could say something else, Gothel gave an impish light tap on the girl's nose before her eyes turned to something over Rapunzel's shoulder and then walked right past her to a full-length mirror.

"Um…?" The young girl was left staring off into space for a moment. After she had missed her all day yesterday and had even begun to grow frantic with worry, she had been hoping for more of a reception from Mother than just a few words before moving on. Just like that. She hesitantly spoke up as she turned to follow her. "S-so… uh, Mother?"

"Hm?" Gothel distractedly answered as she admired her reflection and looked herself over with a critical eye.

"How was yesterday?"

"Oh goodness gracious, Rapunzel," she replied with that warm lilt in her voice, like a parent meeting her child after a day at kindergarten. "You would not _believe_ what your mumsy had to go through yesterday! Everything out there is so difficult to put up with, yesterday more so than usual. I'm sorry you were worried, but the reason I was gone for the entire day was because I actually had to go into the city."

Rapunzel blanched. "Mother, you went… you had to go near _people_?"

"Tragic, isn't it? The brutes in that horrid kingdom nearby are just so spiteful and self-absorbed, and while I managed to handle my business, as I always do, all that toil and slog for me is simply _exhausting_ … you know, I'd rather not go through my troubles, dear. It's so hard for me, please don't bring them up."

Rapunzel winced and glanced away. Why did she ask? She already knew the outside world was harsh and cruel. Why did she need to thoughtlessly go and dig up memories that were surely so difficult for Mother?

Gothel didn't even look away from the mirror as she let out a perfectly drawn out sigh. "My sweet thing, you'll never realize how comfortable and lavish you have it here. I envy you in so many ways, getting to live so _easily_."

Rapunzel felt her heart grow heavy with shame. All this time she spent here with Pascal and getting to enjoy every carefree and whimsical activity of hers while Mother was doing all the hard work for them. Completely crestfallen, she didn't see Gothel's eyes narrow at a spot of wrinkles on the side of her reflection's forehead. Now that she looked closer, she saw how unattractively hollow her cheeks appeared and that the voluptuous swell of her chest and hips was already starting to shrink. Gothel scowled at the affront.

Unacceptable.

Only a second later, Rapunzel's smile returned to normal as she remembered just what would make Mother happy. "Well, I might just have the perfect thi—"

"Rapunzel," the older woman turned with her hands clasped together and an adoring smile. "I may know just the thing. Would you mind singing mother's sweet remedy?"

She felt her spirits lift as she saw that Mother wasn't depressed anymore, and she was always happiest right after Rapunzel sang the special song for her. _Oh, this was perfect!_ And on top of the special surprise she was about to reveal…

"Oh, I'd love to! But first Mother, I have something else to cheer you up!" she sang. "I have a little present for you!"

"Flower, pay atten—" Gothel paused. "A present?"

Rapunzel vigorously nodded.

"For me? Oh, I do love presents, Rapunzel! How thoughtful of you!"

The young girl _beamed_ at the praise.

"Wait right here!" And she took off out of sight. Gothel glanced back at her mirror to idly twirl a curl of raven hair before turning back, only to jolt in surprise when she found Rapunzel already standing back in front of her, presenting a mannequin wearing a finely made blue dress.

"Ta-da!"

Smiling widely, Rapunzel stood perfectly upright with her hands behind her back. She was practically giddy with anticipation as she waited to hear Mother's opinion and trying _not_ to bounce on the soles of her feet. Gothel was completely still as she stared with wide eyes at the handmade dress for few seconds. A corner of her mouth twitched hesitantly before stretching into a full smile.

"Oh darling, this is so…. _pleasant_."

Rapunzel flushed as her heart glowed at the approval.

"Although… one _teensy_ little thing?" the woman still smiled while holding her thumb and index up together, before gesturing to her robe. "The color? Blue? Rapunzel, you know that my favorite is satin red."

Her smile flickered ever so slightly. "Oh. Uh, well, I-I thought to see if you'd like a fresh style. You know, it's always exciting to try new things and…"

Rapunzel trailed off before she simply exhaled. Whether painting or sewing, color was always a major element for any work, and it would take a great amount of time and effort to redo. Ah well, no matter! It would give her something to do! And if the color was the only detail, then it'd be simple to—

"And also?" Rapunzel froze. "The arm size and shoulder width— _tight_. The middy collar doesn't go with the shawl lapel the way I like. The pleats are uneven. The fabric looks like common toile. You used a backstitch here when it _clearly_ calls for a topstitch or probably a traditional blanket stitch. And the over-design is too reminiscent of Pret-a-Porter and not a true French haute couture…"

As Gothel went on, Rapunzel's eyes went wide, and her shoulders dropped. But her crushing despair was matched only by growing bewilderment, she didn't even know what half of those terms meant. _Pret-a-piper? Toile? And what's a 'French'?_

Gothel finally finished with a sigh of longsuffering, perfectly pitched and dramatized. "Darling, really? I know you're fascinated by new things, but honestly Rapunzel, you always need to think these fanciful ventures through. Why didn't you think to use better materials?"

"But, Mother, I don't think we have any of those…"

The woman suddenly brightened as she turned and pinched Rapunzel's cheeks. "Oh, I just made all those silly things up, my little one. I'm just _teasing_ , you did a perfectly medioc— _fine_!— fine job. There's no need for you to get so upset over nothing, darling."

Rapunzel looked back into Mother's grey eyes and worked up an awkward smile in response. Or, at least as much as she could smile with her cheeks were being squeezed. But it quickly faded away as she noticed the familiar manner the older woman had turned and walked away, not even a second look back at the dress. She had learned long ago that Mother sometimes used her usual teasing as a way of kindly letting her down and also telling her to drop the subject. She knew Mother had already forgotten all about the dress she made.

The girl suddenly winced at the thought. No, the dress she had _tried_ to make. Why didn't she think to look closer at Mother's own wardrobe, why didn't she try _harder_? First, she made Mother feel bad only minutes after she woke up, and now she got her dress wrong! She had rarely ever managed to truly please Mother to the point where she was showered with praise. It was no surprise that Mother was hard to truly impress if all people of the world were really so immovable and devoid of affection. Another reason why she couldn't leave yet. If she couldn't show it to the one person who knew her best, how could she do the same in a world where there was no such kindness? She knew how much Mother worried about her, and that sheer overprotective instinct pushed her to automatically call out even the smallest accident or mistake as further reason that her daughter wasn't ready to start her own life yet. Mother cared so much for her that it would be _months_ before she would forget about something.

Worse, it was clear that Mother wasn't in the best mood this morning, and so far nothing was going at all like she had hoped.

"Now, what is that most delightful smell?"

Even so, Rapunzel still smiled at those words. _Breakfast time!_ If there was one thing that she had absolute confidence in, something that never once disappointed Mother, it was her incredible cooking. And so, an eager Rapunzel led Gothel to the table. With the efficiency of years of practice, she pulled out and pushed the chair in for Mother. She then gracefully spread a napkin on her lap, set her plate in front of her, handed her a knife and fork, and then finished by pouring her preferred tea. Once she was finished settling Mother in, she did the same for her own place at the table.

"Very good, dear," Mother said. "I must admit that I am feeling rather peckish, in the mood for something nice to eat. A good little food will make everything better."

"My thoughts exactly, Mother!" Rapunzel chimed. "Now since I knew you had a long day yesterday, I thought you could use something nice, so I had decided to make something especially sweet and tasty this morning. So here we are… mixed fruit crêpe with vanilla cream! And even a few cupcakes with icing!"

As Rapunzel sat down in her own seat, a swell of joy and relief swept through her when she saw Mother give a wide smile before they both happily dug in. It was one of Rapunzel's favorites to make. She couldn't make the most elaborate dishes, but she had still become a master cook with basic foods and ingredients. Gothel only brought back standard materials like bread, wheat, flour, eggs, sugar and other similar ingredients. In addition, the succulent fruits in the nearby valley surrounding the tower's grotto grew lush and healthy, and the water from the river was icy fresh and even sweet. Over the years, Rapunzel tried all kinds of different ways to make food with the ingredients Mother brought back with her. This particular dish came from an experiment where she used the pastry dough from her pies as a thin wrapping for some sliced apples, kiwi, oranges and peaches that she had soaked in sweet water. For reasons she never explained, Mother called it a 'crêpe' and the dish was called as such ever since.

"I see you made good use of the apples I left on the counter last night," Gothel remarked with approval in-between each savory bite. "And is that brown sugar I taste?"

"Yes, and how could I not put such wonderfully bright fruits to use? Perhaps tomorrow, I can use the leftovers for some apple turnovers?" Rapunzel happily answered, which Mother answered with a nod since her mouth was full. "Oh! You know what would make that even better? Cinnamon! Know if we can get any?"

Gothel held up a finger for her wait until she swallowed. "Cinnamon… yes, I think I can make that happen. It might take a little work, but I can get my hands on some."

Rapunzel beamed. Now things were back on track! So long as she could do everything perfectly, especially for the next few days, then maybe, just _maybe_ Mother could see that she was ready. As her cooking skills always did, things were turning around. And then, once they were done eating, she'd sing the special song for her happily well-fed Mother.

As she reached for her own teacup for a sip, Gothel spoke up. "Now now, dear. That's not how you drink your tea."

Rapunzel paused with a quirked eyebrow. "This isn't fine?"

But she was shaking her head. "No, it is not fine," she declared. "Please, hold your cup up like this. This is how a proper lady does it."

While it seemed patronizing at times, Rapunzel still took great satisfaction whenever Mother showed her yet another way to act and behave. It would offer her yet another new way to impress Mother, with another tool in her store of methods to demonstrate proof of her growth. It always felt like moving onto the next lesson and the next step in a long road, like a sign of progress in becoming someone finally able to navigate the world on her own. Therefore, Rapunzel always did her best to take each lesson to heart, no matter how tricky or demanding.

"Now remember Rapunzel, this is how one takes her tea. Arm extended, elbow out. Wait for the other to sip first, it's only polite. This is how a good girl behaves."

The young woman watched carefully and attentively as Mother lifted her own cup to her lips and drank.

"Now it's your turn, so do as I do. Raise it slowly, like this." Rapunzel dutifully followed suit. "Pinkie in the air. Arm extended, elbow out. That's it… and now take a modest sip. _Sip_ but never slurp." She did so, gently drinking from the rim, not too much and not too little. "Now keep your cup level, and gently lower it."

Rapunzel gracefully put the cup back down to the saucer, and Mother nodded in approval.

"Very good. Now again, follow my lead."

They went through the process several more times. As Rapunzel began lifting her cup on the third time, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. Without breaking the rhythm and with Mother focused only on her own cup while reiterating the steps, Rapunzel's eyes glanced to the side to see Pascal moving across the shelf behind Gothel. What was he doing? She watched as the chameleon's face turned the same shade of Mother's skin while the top turned to the raven black of her hair in a fair imitation of the older woman, and then lifted what looked like his own miniature tea cup. Her eyes widened as he mechanically mimed Mother's drinking in perfect synch with a flat look, matching her motion for motion.

This continued several more turns.

"Again. Pinkie in the air. Arm extended, elbow out…"

All three participants lifted their cups to their lips.

"… and now gracefully s-"

Pascal abruptly sucked his breath in, catching a pink flower petal stuck between his lips and spun around in mock-alarm.

" _Pfffft_!"

Rapunzel was unable to keep from doing a spit-take which was followed by a snort of laughter at the sight. And when she looked back up to Mother, her mind was actually stuck between whether to feel ashamed or to keep laughing.

" _Rapunzel_!" Gothel wiped the sprayed tea off her face.

"Mother, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

 _Crash!_

The hasty apology was cut off by the sound of china breaking as Rapunzel had accidentally knocked her own teacup off the table. Her brain now opted for shame, and the young woman flushed with embarrassment. Pascal was hiding his own guilty expression and tried to make himself small as well as invisible.

"Oh! Uh, I'm so sorry! I-I'll clean that right up," Rapunzel said as she quickly started picking up the pieces of china.

Gothel sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Darling. I think that-"

Rapunzel shook her head vigorously and picked up the pace, determined to fix her little mistake quickly and show that she can handle accidents. "No, please! Don't worry Mother, it's alright, I'll take care of it. See, I already have most of the p- _AH_!"

In her haste to impress and undo her blunder, Rapunzel had foregone caution and clutched an especially jagged shard much too tightly against her palm, where the razor edge sunk into her delicate skin. She instantly recoiled from the sting as she sat straight back upright with her hand held up, and she cringed at the sight of several red droplets beginning to form.

But Rapunzel knew she had nothing to worry about. She had been more surprised rather than having felt anything more than a tiny prickle. Barely a second passed before golden light emanated from the wound, shrinking as it rapidly closed over. There was not even a trace of damage left, leaving her skin as smooth and flawless as it had been three seconds ago.

Rapunzel closed her palm, without the slightest twinge of pain, and stood back up. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'll go get a broom to clea-"

"Rapunzel. _Look at me_."

Goosebumps swept across the golden blonde's skin, as a wave of unease took her stomach. Rapunzel turned around and went pale when she saw the terrible gaze in Mother's eyes. Not having taken her eyes away from her hand, she hadn't seen Gothel's enraged look when she saw the instantaneous healing. Her eyes had bulged with fuming envy at the sight of Rapunzel's inherent gift, before she forced it down to a mere simmer before the girl would see.

And now as she spoke, Gothel's grey eyes were hot iron and her voice was sharp and tinged with unconcealed disapproval. Rapunzel reflexively swallowed.

"How many times do I have to tell you how unsuited and inept you are for these things?"

 _Mother, no…_

Gothel did not shout. In fact, she had barely raised her voice. But her tone was focused and absolutely unforgiving in her words. "Sloppy and scatterbrained. So childish, thoughtless and clumsy. All you ever do all the livelong day is act on every skittish fancy that slips through your head without ever thinking. No, you never think — at all! — about how the world will mercilessly snap its jaws at you! You would get hurt so easily and just the thought of that _torments me so_!"

The fury in her eyes suddenly waned and her voice began to crack. Seconds ago, she had been completely livid and now she looked ready to burst into tears.

"Look at us. You're the one who makes a mistake and then somehow, _I'm_ the one who ends up being the bad guy? Don't you know I had _such_ a difficult journey last night? Rapunzel, this is what I'm always talking about. Why can't you be more considerate of another's needs?"

Rapunzel crumpled to pieces, her pure heart unable to bear the thought of another soul crying in grief and anguish, let alone from her own mother. It felt like someone was gouging at her heart with a rusty blade. If her mother started crying, and all because of her, she didn't know what she would do.

"No, no! Mother, _please_! Don't cry!" she frantically exclaimed as she hugged Mother closely. "I-I'm sorry, I am so _sorry_. I never w-wanted to… I just… please, it's my fault. It's all my fault. Please don't hurt yourself… b-b-because of me…"

Several moments of agonizing silence passed. Then she felt Mother's arms wrap around her as she returned the hug, and she nearly collapsed from relief. Her nerves were shot, but her heart began to lift again. Then she felt Mother's fingers gently lift her chin up to look into her eyes. It warmed her to see that the other woman already looked much better.

"Thank you, Rapunzel. Your generous apology is accepted, but the indifference of your behavior is not forgotten. Just please go to your room and think upon the proper manners of a good daughter. I need some time."

Stunned by the abruptness of the dismissal, she nevertheless stood up. "Mother, I…"

" ** _Rapunzel_**."

The words suddenly got stuck at the bottom of her throat, and Rapunzel fought not to choke. All she wanted was to make Mother smile just like the beautiful morning she sang to, but instead she had only made things worse. This was not how it was supposed to go. Tears threatened to burn her eyes again and she blinked them away. Mother was upset enough, and her own tears only ever annoyed her. She withdrew deep within herself, and without another sound Rapunzel turned and mechanically ascended the stairs with heavy steps as if dead to the world.

 _I didn't mean to hurt you…_

As Rapunzel disappeared into her room and the door closed behind her, the silence that followed was bleak and heavy. Casting a sideways glance towards the girl's room, Gothel gave herself a smug grin. It was just too easy. She straightened up her posture, fluffed her hair out a little and picked her knife and fork back up as she now ate her breakfast in peace.

In a shadowed corner, a watchful chameleon turned to a seething red before scurrying off.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _An hour later…_

Rapunzel hugged her knees in tight as she curled up on her bed, golden hair all around her, as she hid her face in a pillow sodden with her tears.

How could she have acted so senselessly? Not only did she hurt her chances of getting her coming birthday wish, but she had let Mother down. She had disappointed her, and so she had hurt her. The thought alone made her heart painfully constrict with woe.

Why was Mother always so harsh about every small little thing? Why did she worry for her so?

But Rapunzel did know why, of course.

Eventually, she wiped her tears and abandoned her bed, moving to the chair in front of her mirror. She pulled a lock of golden hair over her shoulder, taking a brush to run through the fine strands. She spent a lot of time sitting in front of her bedroom mirror combing her long blonde hair. It seemed to fall into place pretty much on its own, sliding down in gentle, glistening waves, but Rapunzel loved to comb it anyway. It usually relaxed and soothed her, but this was not such a time.

Strong and healthy, her golden hair carried a special secret unlike any other in the world. She could feel the magic of life within her, flowing under her skin like a warm river of honey and then out through her hair. A magic unlike any other in the world that could heal any injury, cure any illness, bring comfort to despair and breathe new life and hope into all around her. Unbeknownst to Rapunzel, her hair possessed the miraculous power that once healed the entire world from an unthinkable calamity, and now the last of this pure magic was contained within one person.

While Rapunzel had no inkling of its origins, the magic was undeniable. And so was the lure of its power.

The brush came down the side of her neck, drawing Rapunzel's eyes to the one curl of her hair that was not luminous gold but a murky brown. Her shoulders slumped even further as she was confronted once again with that reminder of the past. A permanent reminder that people would want her hair, and that they _had_ once come for her. They would do so again; to destroy it, to sell it or to use it. To use _her_. Mother never missed an opportunity to explain how dangerous the world was, and that was before her magic hair became involved. Mother always told her how she was simply too naïve and trusting to hide her hair's magic, not to mention how else they would take advantage of her. A gift such as hers had to be protected.

As she continued to gaze at that one brown curl that would always follow her everywhere, Rapunzel reminded herself that it must be this way, that this was necessary, and Mother was doing what was best for her.

 _Mother knows best._

But that didn't stop her from wanting more one day, from dreaming of having her own life. A voice deep inside her wanted so much more than Mother had planned. And her yearning for the day that her life would finally begin was always strongest when the time of the 'Floating Lights' drew near, on the same day as her birthday. Watching those beautiful yet mysterious lights every year on her own birthday was where her thirst of curiosity was born. Rapunzel always couldn't help but wonder how much the timing of the date really meant. She had a special gift of magic that no one else in the world possessed; was it really a coincidence that such enchanting lights also appeared on _her_ birthday? Honestly, she didn't know, and she needed to find out for herself more than anything. No matter how much she should stay in the tower.

 _What is wrong with me?_

Frustrated with herself, with her circumstances, Rapunzel balled her hands into fists, drawing fierce furrows along the silk length of her dress, and once again, she found herself in a tense battle with tears, but this time, it was a losing battle, and she irritably dashed the droplets from her cheeks.

She suddenly felt a familiar movement on her leg and she looked down to see Pascal crawl onto her hand. Rapunzel lifted him up to his usual position on her shoulder, where he turned a bright pink and rubbed his cheek against hers. She couldn't help it, the gesture from her dear friend cheered her by a great deal. She dried her tears and smiled. "Thanks, Pascal."

Rapunzel ran a finger through her locks again. Such an amazing gift, she marveled, yet it came with the price of making her a prisoner. She sometimes wondered if there was anyone else out there who would understand, to lock themselves away because of how others might react to magic…

She tensed when her keen ears caught the dull thud of approaching footsteps, and she sniffed and wiped hastily at her face, not wishing to leave any evidence of tears behind, as the predictable knock sounded next. _Dok dok dok._ Pascal promptly disappeared under a curtain.

"Come in," she said, affecting a polite tone, which she inwardly referred to as the 'Good Girl Voice'. It was the voice she used whenever Mother was upset to keep from causing anymore trouble; Timid, demure, non-threatening, and utterly devoid of any passion.

Gothel poked her head in. "Rapunzel, sweetie?"

She kept her head halfway lowered. "Hello again, Mother."

 _Be a good girl. Mother knows best._

Gothel moved inside and sat down on the bed with her, sitting just several feet away. For a few moments, there was only a quiet sense of a wall between them. Neither said a word as they gazed into empty space. After what seemed like hours, Gothel scooched over closely to Rapunzel.

"Would you like to talk?"

Rapunzel kept her voice the same—vapid, submissive, toneless. "It is alright, I understand what happened." Mother always seemed to calm down right away when she acted like this.

It worked. Mother smiled and put her arm around Rapunzel's shoulder. "Now, now, my sweet," she crooned. "I am so sorry all of that happened, but there's no need for us to get bent out of shape. We should never have any conflict… we're _family_."

Her breath hitched. "Y-you're not… not upset?"

Gothel's gaze glanced at Rapunzel's hair for a mere instant, then kindly shook her head. "It's alright, I'm not mad anymore. I forgive you, Flower."

 _Oh… oh, Mother!_

Rapunzel trembled as the wall came down. The next thing she knew, she had her arms tightly around Mother as she leaned against her shoulder. "I'm so sorry…"

"Don't you worry. Why don't we take a few moments, just for ourselves, to clear the air? I have an idea, Rapunzel." Gothel held up the hairbrush. "Why don't you sing?"

She sighed in relief. She always loved to sing, and the special song of her hair always made everything better with Mother. They both shifted as they got into their comfortable positions, as Gothel began to brush her silky-smooth hair in rhythm while Rapunzel closed her eyes and reached deep within. Her mouth opened, and her beautiful voice sang the melody that Mother ingrained into her since she learned how to talk.

 _"Flower gleam and glow…"_

Like the chant for a spell, the top of Rapunzel's golden mane began to glow luminously with a light that held the pure radiance of the angels with the comforting warmth of the sun, illuminating the drab chamber with its wonderous light. Every pebble and fixture on every surface was thrown into soft relief, each casting a gentle shadow behind it.

 _"Let your power shine,_

 _Make the clock reverse,_

 _Bring back what once was mine,"_

The golden glow traveled down the smooth tresses of her hair, following like a glistening river through the forest. It flowed until it reached where Gothel was slowly brushing the strands, holding the bundle of magical hair even closer as it drew near to her.

 _"Heal what has been hurt,_

 _Change the fate's design,_

 _Save what has been lost,_

 _Bring back what once was mine"_

Gothel relaxed as she began to drink from the golden fountain of youth. She leaned her head back, eyes closed as she slowly breathed in. The corners of her mouth lifted in blissful ecstasy as she felt the familiar rush of golden magic seep into her veins. The years melted away. Her skin became flawlessly smooth, her hair regained its rich shade of midnight-black, feminine curves filled out her dress and renewed life filled her bones. Finally, she released the long breath and opened her eyes again.

 _"What once was mine…"_

As Rapunzel's song trailed off, the magical radiance from her mane faded and the room returned to normal. The magic was over.

"Mmmm… Well done as always, Flower."

Rapunzel allowed herself to smile at the praise.

Gothel stood to check herself in the mirror and smiled at her reflection. Renewed and enriched by the blessing of the Golden Flower, her beauty was beyond compare. Her spotless skin was a perfect shade of pale ivory. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, her chin better defined, fuller rubescent lips and her complexion glowed with health. And such a nice, _magnificent_ body… Gothel's body was thicker than Rapunzel's overall, but it was curvaceous and toned to perfection. She had the full, upthrust roundness of her chest again as was her preference. Her waist had shrunk, as if two inches had migrated downward, filling out her smooth thighs while drawing in her stomach. Her hips were wider and flared superbly under her dress, complimenting the outline of a well-rounded derrière. Of course, what she loved best was the fact that she was a centuries old woman encased in a gorgeous body that barely touched her thirties.

Mother Gothel blew her reflection a kiss. Eternal perfection for one blessed with eternal life.

"Feeling better?"

"Oh, I'm _so much_ better. You don't have to worry, I'm not upset!" she sweetly enunciated by squeezing Rapunzel's cheeks again, before drawing the girl into a comforting hug. "I know you're still learning and that you always do your best to look after your exhausted but _adoring_ mother. That's why I love you so very much, dear."

The blonde smirked in response. "I love you _more_."

"And I love you _most_." Gothel finished their old exchange as she kissed the top of her golden hair. "Like I said Flower, we are family. So long as you take care of your wonderful mother, I will always keep you safe and protected here. Your love inspires me. And I know it will go on inspiring me every day, for as long as you may live."

Rapunzel snuggled deeper into the hug. "Of course Mother, I'll always do anything for my family. I promise."

And she never, ever broke a promise.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that," Gothel smiled in delight as she stroked Rapunzel's hair lovingly, rubbing a few long locks against her cheek. As she finally stood up and walked to the bedroom door, she still held the locks to her cheek until she reached the end of the strands.

"Now why don't you get some rest, my little ray of sunshine? If you want, we can talk more later."

With her final word spoken, Gothel closed the door behind her.

Rapunzel stared happily at the closed door for a while before she lay back down on her bed. This morning hadn't turned out as she had planned, but at least everything was still alright now. But while things hadn't gotten any worse, her progress wasn't any better. Her eighteenth birthday would be here soon. Not only was that an important milestone in becoming her own person, but she didn't think she could take another whole year to see the floating lights.

Even so, mistakes were something to learn by! She glanced at the mannequin on the other side of her room, knowing she could still make the new dress work, especially now that Mother had listed her other preferences. But above all, Mother kept telling her all morning that most of the events were because she wasn't ready to handle herself, so all she had to do was prove that she was a big girl now. And finally turning eighteen would certainly merit the opportunity for her to at least try!

Right?

She desperately hoped so. She had no idea what she'd do otherwise.

The leaves of the outside valley blew in the wind, rustling the balcony curtains. Feeling the gentle breeze caress her cheek, Rapunzel glanced towards the window again. She felt a faint tingle in her hair. Not for the first time, it felt like the wind, the trees, the world was calling out to her like an old friend.

Heeding the call, she got up and treaded to the balcony in hopes some fresh air would help. Looking to the outside land, Rapunzel inhaled the sweet air of the forest and spring hills, which was already working its magic on her. It soothed and cradled the one in tune with nature, connected with the world. Indeed, she was no longer feeling tense from earlier, but far more relaxed and calm. Basking in the sun's rays always soothed her. She gazed up at the sun above her, at the sky's endless and unbound expanse, admiring their radiant beauty and wonder.

She felt the sun's warm light around her as if reassuring her, uplifting her spirit. The only feeling Rapunzel could equate it to was snuggling into a thick blanket after taking an especially cold bath, and a warm hug that enveloped you and held you close when you felt lost and alone. She smiled, savoring the tingling sensation in her face. Without doubt, there can be no wonder in the world. Years of dreams just can't be wrong! She let the swell of renewed hope flow through her heart, and then she opened her mouth to harmonize softly, her angelic voice echoed through the wind, her haunting melody soothing her all the more.

Her voice was like that of a siren, enchanting the entire valley. Born from a magic that brought life and peace, Rapunzel's presence and her lyrical voice could wash away pain, despair and hate, and instead bring comfort, hope and harmony. Not so far away, an enormous serpent coiled right next to one of the rabbits without making any effort to try and eat it. It was the same with a young hawk owl and a field mouse, the two actually cuddling against each other with complete disregard for the food chain. It was not always like whenever she sang the song for her magic hair, when Mother asked her to. This was because she _wanted_ to, when it flowed freely from her heart and she sang the last verse of her song.

 _From the first of all time, until time is undone_

 _Forever and ever and ever and ever_

 _I am the sky and the dawn and the sun_

 _I am the sky and the new day begun_

 _I am the sky and the dawn and the…_

 _Sun!_

Rapunzel's soulful voice grew higher and more beautiful as she hit the high note as if it were second nature to her. As the last of her song finally drifted off, she dreamed of what awaited her in the strange outside world. She wouldn't give up hope just yet! Soon, she would have her chance to see the outside world, and to behold the floating lights! She just knew it! It would be more than just a dream, but also a place for her to start! It would be…

It would be…

It would be an _adventure_! One that would never end!

On that fateful day, her life would finally _begin_.

She couldn't wait until that day of freedom would finally arrive. All she could do was imagine what it might be like, or if she would even know it when it showed.

 **~o~O~o~**

"I'm here! I'm here! I'm here! I'm here!"

The steady mid-morning peace and rhythm of the Corona docks was broken when a figure had come barreling his way through the crowd the very moment his ship had docked. Once he had all but galloped a good enough distance off ship, Flynn Rider finally slowed and bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Oh, phew… I'm here… _finally,_ " he breathed heavily. "And golly gee willikers, I feel like it took _nine months_ to get here!"

After a few minutes, he caught his second wind and stood upright, finally getting a good look at his destination. The very air was different as well. Flynn felt at ease and content, and could sense the timelessness of the kingdom, the peacefulness that surrounded him. Even though he only spent a short time in _Nasal_ town, it was not short enough. It was good to be back in a lively kingdom with good people, just like the four realms of the Alliance.

Flynn closed his eyes as he sniffed the air dramatically as if he were a bloodhound. "Mmmm… smells like opportunity! Ooh, and Bundt cake!"

Indeed, who knew what prospects might await him here in this new land? After all, when one visits a place they have never seen before, every event and affair to be had was a new experience. As his idol had always once said, the potential of a new land had no limit. He could feel it; the future was filled with promise, and the present rife with expectation. Who knew what kind of fun he would have in a place like this before finally setting course for Arendelle?

With that thought, he smiled broadly and strode forward with purpose.

 _Look out Corona, here comes Flynn Rider!_

The thief's stomach suddenly growled loudly enough to startle several nearby bystanders.

 _… as soon as he finds that Bundt cake!_

* * *

 **Sorry I've been gone for a while, everyone! Even so, my time away was well-spent. I ironed out many details for the rest of my story, watched the entire first season of the Tangled Tv series to find new storylines to implement and also wrote over sixty-thousand words to help out the story of a dear friend of mine. But I'm here now again, and you have my solemn word: I will not abandon this story. It WILL be seen through to the end! Huzzah!**

 **Rapunzel, the Lost Princess and the Maiden of the Golden Flower, now takes to the stage, and Flynn Rider has finally come. All paths lead to Corona. The pieces are nearly assembled, and fate is set to weave their threads together into a new tapestry that will change everything forever. Nothing will ever be the same, not only for Flynn and Rapunzel, but the entire world.**

 **And yes, of course there's singing! This takes part in the Disney universe, there had to be singing at some point! The one in this chapter aside from the Flower song is a rendition of _The Sky and the Dawn and the Sun_ from Celtic Woman.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Disney franchise, nor the Tangled films nor the TV series or anything from the Celtic Woman album. Everything original you will see, however, is mine.**


	6. The Honeycomb

**Welcome To Corona**

 _Be slow to fall into friendship, but when you are, continue firm and constant._

– Socrates

He was surprised at how sad he felt to finally throw away his noble disguise.

Holding the fancy overcoat in his hands, Flynn found he couldn't help it. He had enjoyed being 'Count Mathis Gladstone'. It felt liberating to play the role of a proud man who was set for life. There were certain parts of Count Gladstone that he wanted to keep as souvenirs and keepsakes: his clothes for one, his respected standing. His bearing. A better man who did not need to steal to survive.

Except that kind of wealth didn't bring real freedom. It would just tie him down and everyone would tell him how he was allowed to spend it, even how he was allowed to think. That kind of life came with strings attached. Too many nasty things involved, like 'expectations' and 'responsibility'. Instead of going and doing what he wanted, how he wanted to live. All his time would be spent just like at the Duke's ball! Standing in a stuffy room, gossiping about the most inane things, bickering over balance sheets and legislation? Oh no, he had plenty enough of that when dabbling among the squabbling nobles back there! Okay sure, he did make off with a fortune by ripping them off — _wait, what was the difference again?_ — but to have to go through all that again?

… _Every day_?

"Gyaah!"

Flynn recoiled at the image and quickly flung the outfit away from him like it was a diseased animal while he ran in the opposite direction. A lifestyle of paperwork? _Politics_?! With a capital 'P' which rhymed with 'T' which stood for Trouble! And not the fun kind! _No! Nix, nein, nyet, na-uh, no way, never!_

All of those nasty little things came from the rules most people imposed upon themselves. An ordinary man had more power, independence, and free will than any noble! Who needed a title to have his own form of wealth or freedom? This was what it meant to be your own man, because here Flynn was, beholden to no one. As a common man, he possessed his own sovereignty, he was his own master and lived more freely than any noble! And in a way, that made him more powerful than any of them!

At last, the heavy noble authority and deep bureaucracy of Weselton were now leagues behind him. Here in Corona, everything was different. Back in a civilization that actually felt civilized! As he walked the streets, Flynn basked in the feeling of a brighter, simpler and happier community, pleasant energy as merry as the weather. All around him were hand-carved and painted signs hung above shops and bakeries, their wares on display in glass windows. Grocers and farmers selling fresh produce lined the streets. Men and women went about their business as children ran laughing between them. What a breath of fresh air!

Indeed, the air was so much better than in Weselton's thick industry. Flynn had no idea he was being deprived of oxygen back there. He had stepped off the ship onto the Corona docks, breathed in and _oh my god, I can do math_!

The kingdom of Corona was fascinating. Throughout the cobblestone streets and stone bridges overlooking rivers with the occasional gondola, most of the buildings were built with a similar fashion to old Bavarian style, complete with overhanging upper stories and brightly stained shutters. Some had thatched roofs while others had actual shingles. Flynn briefly wondered if it was a financial choice or tourist attraction. The latter seemed more likely since merchants and traders came from all over the lands for Corona's crops and cuisine. Everything was lavishly decorated but not opulent or extravagant. The city was so clean, charming and colorful it practically cried out to be made into a canvas.

Indeed, kingdoms like Corona could inspire even the poorest of artists for generations without fail. It was a truly wondrous place, and if the hospitality their reputation spoke of matched the aesthetics then he was in for a real treat during his stay.

The smell of baked goods hit his nose, making his stomach growl again. Right, he was hungry. He had already stored away the bulk of his loot from Weselton in his growing stockpile for his future private island, but he always made sure to keep a decent amount on his person. Thieves knew better than anyone what it was like to have so little if anything— it was why many of them became thieves. He knew how to be smart with his 'allowance'.

Flynn was going to be in Corona for a while before he could finally head to Arendelle. Nearly every ship at the harbor would be staying until the end of the upcoming annual festival with all the visiting tourists and merchants. Aside from keeping himself fed, he'd have to find a place to stay. Not to mention that he ought to help Opal with starting her life over. With the surge for the festival, there should be a few decent opportunities for her. He might as well enjoy the festival himself if he was going to be staying until then. Perhaps he might even pass the time by finding a juicy mark to pinch a decent profit from?

But for now, his stomach was still filing complaints. Many complaints, and to any and all departments that might care. _Alright, alright._

Without even trying, Flynn's sharp eyes reflexively took everything in and noted the best potential target in the area: a merchant atop his horse-driven fruit cart was already making to slow down to allow a group of school children pass by. He became invisible with a seamless shift in his stance as he moved in, and the bump from the cart stopping in place masked any slip as he smoothly swiped a yellow apple without a break in stride. He then discovered how tasty Corona apples were.

His thoughts were interrupted minutes later, however, when he passed by a tavern that gave off aromas that smelled _delicious_. Was that a hint of Brittany Sage glaze? And just like that, his appetite returned with a vengeance.

The tavern was a rectangular building two stories high. Simple and modest in design yet extremely well-maintained, enough to express good business. There were a few amber tinted windows along the sides, where one could see the shapes of people enjoying a good midday meal, drink and conversation. The muffled laughter and music sounding out from it sure made it seem inviting and merry.

Flynn glanced at the sign. It read " _The Honeycomb_ " in ornate gold lettering.

Something about the name made him take note of how the tavern shared a similar design as most of Corona's architecture yet the style still seemed to possess a unique touch. The name seemed oddly familiar somehow.

Heeding his curiosity as well as his stomach, Flynn ventured inside and a bell rang from the top of the door.

The tavern was massive and rather bright inside, with glass windows in the ceiling rafters to let in just the right amount of Corona's bright and healthy sunlight. The ambiance was lavishly decorated, with some truly beautiful wooden furniture and patterns woven into the elaborate designs. Pristine yet homely, it emanated a warm and friendly feeling for its guests.

A moderately-sized stage had been raised in the far-left corner, where several musicians played pleasant tunes for the guests. A long ironwood bar lined the right side of the large tavern, where there were shelves of washed glasses, metal mugs, and brightly colored bottles. In the corner behind the bar was a wooden door that no doubt led to the kitchen, where the sounds of cooks could be heard hard at work. A set of stairs opposite the entrance led up to a second floor overhanging the ground floor, where he was surprised to glimpse more patrons at their own tables. A tavern with two entire floors of serving tables! This establishment was certainly an innovative one.

Once again, something in the back of his memory stirred, picking up something about the subtle touch that seemed vaguely familiar, like noticing the minute and otherwise imperceptible details of a sculpture by a certain artist. He couldn't quite put his finger on it though.

And the entire place was packed! Tables were scattered across the room, guests sitting around enjoying food and friendly games of cards, backgammon and dice. Serving girls wearing flattering yet decently appropriate outfits were running to and fro between tables to take orders and deliver food and drinks. They had a genuinely friendly nature to them much like the rest of Corona's atmosphere, chatting happily with their customers like old friends.

Then there was the food itself. There were few signs of conventional meals like meat, biscuits, fish or anything expected of a customary tavern. On one table, there was instead a salver of warmly served banana bread and golden croissants, next to several glasses of mango drinks and a plate of creamy cinnamon rolls. Throughout the establishment, there were all kinds of sweet and rich but healthy desserts. Baked pineapple with vanilla ice cream, mixed berry vanilla cream tart, salted caramel fudge, fruit crepe with brown sugar and strawberries, peppermint chocolate truffles, yogurt, and custard pudding adorned with sliced melonberry and peaches, and there was hot cocoa with bean cream and cinnamon sticks. Not to mention a number of pies everywhere made of apple, cherry, boysenberry, gooseberry… the list just went on!

True to its name, the Honeycomb appeared to serve a 'sweeter' variety of food for its guests. In a place where you could have such creative and healthy confections, along with the sweet scent of candy floss, molasses, maple syrup, barely sugar and toffee apple, who would want something as banal as sandwiches? _Bleagh._

Flynn's practiced mind had taken everything in about the tavern in barely a second. And as soon as he stepped through the door, it seemed that every female waitress in the place turned to look at him as he entered. As one particularly attractive brunette quickly stopped another hostess about to approach him and darted over herself with a poorly disguised interest in her eyes, he immediately knew he wouldn't be allowed to leave anytime soon.

"Um… hi…" she breathed, smitten and already forgot what she wanted to say.

"Hello there," he greeted, putting on the charm.

"… Hi." She said again.

Flynn raised an eyebrow with a hint of amusement. She shook her head and quickly recovered her wits.

"Hello and welcome to the Honeycomb!" She eagerly greeted as she kept her bright blue eyes locked on Flynn's. "May I get you a place to sit?"

He gave his natural smile, which caused her heart to race. "Well, I had just wanted to peek inside, see what the place is like and maybe place a reservation for later?"

"Reserva—? Oh no, I'm not letting you out of my sight until you're absolutely satisfied. W-with a full stomach!" She quickly added as she blushed, taking him by the arm as she led him to the bar. "I haven't seen you around before, are you new to Corona? Do you know anyone to show you around for the festival?"

It was clear that she had very different questions in mind and was far more interested to know if he was single. He silently mouthed 'no' with a knowing smile. Her eyes lit up with glee and she glanced at the other girls and gave a vigorous nod, which many of them were excited to see. As he sat down, he couldn't help but feel amused that the brunette immediately wanted him to have the best seating spot instead of asking the potential customer where he might prefer to sit.

"I'll be just a minute, hon." Her hands stayed on his toned shoulders a moment longer than necessary before she left to fetch something for the new arrival.

"Do you know him?" another girl asked her.

"No, but I want to!"

His keen sense of hearing easily picking up their exchange, Flynn glanced over his shoulder at the group and flashed another smile, which caused more than a fair number of giggles and blushing.

Settling in after a long journey, he had a clear view of the entire place and he sat on the edge seat so the counter wouldn't catch his legs if he had to run. His sharp eyes didn't find any signs of repaired damage around the Honeycomb to indicate the tavern was a home for barroom brawls, but it was still always a good habit for a someone like him.

When the brunette returned, he was rather surprised when she handed him a glass of water with a lemon and… _whoa, ice? This place has ice?_

"I, uh, didn't ask for any water," he said tentatively.

"Oh, don't worry," she reassured him as she brought an entire pitcher as well. "Fresh water is always free. That includes refills, so help yourself."

He quickly took a generous sip, feeling the refreshingly cool water wash down his dry throat.

The ice was a pleasant surprise. It was the only way to keep food cold and properly refrigerated, and desserts such as ice cream were rather expensive. Outside of the upper class, few taverns or restaurants had any cold meals or desserts. For this place to offer it so freely with water and even refills? He hadn't even ordered yet and it already appeared that the stories of Corona's generous hospitality with food were true.

"And this," she slid him a new drink with a pearlescent shade of pink, "is on the house. Lucky you."

 _Oh, I like this place already._

"Well, you have my thanks, miss…?"

"Oh, Giselle!" She smiled. "My name's Giselle."

"A kind name for a kind face," Flynn nodded before glancing at the new beverage. "Now, what sort of drink is this one?"

"A Banana Fofana, one of our specials," Giselle elaborated. "A number of pressed fruits and ice cream mixed thoroughly with ice and a single drop of hard cider. It's delicious, like drinking happiness!"

Flynn couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her excited description. How good could it be? He slowly took a sip of the fancy drink, and his eyes went wide as a rush of incredibly well-made flavor swept through him like a flood that left his skin tingling. He suddenly snapped his face away from the glass in surprise. It was even better than any of the ridiculously expensive dishes at the Duke's ball!

"Sweet Mama from Yokohama, that _is_ good! _Woo-hoo_!" Much to Giselle's amusement, he immediately began to down the rest of the glass with abandon, savoring every drop. "Mmhmm... mmhmm... mmhmm! Oh, that's like drinking tropical sunshine! Ah, thank you! My compliments to the chef!"

"Well just you wait, he's making a special palate of breakfast today." Giselle chuckled, apparently quite accustomed to such reactions to their food and drink. "He's the one who founded the Honeycomb. He came here to Corona three years ago, built this place from the ground up and poured his soul into making good food. Most of our dishes are his own invention, and as you can see, we're one of the most popular establishments in the kingdom!"

"Hmm, sounds like a man after my own stomach!" Flynn looked at his now empty glass, already eager for another.

The brunette smiled, and then pressed a little closer to him with a hint of sensual suggestion. "If you would like, I can ask him to make something special… just for you."

Her face tautened even further when he smiled so smoothly at her, he looked like some house-cat who just licked the cream from a puddle of spilled milk and spoke in a low, pleased voice. "Now that, Giselle, would be _delicious_."

The woman's composure slipped as her breathing became labored and warm desire rushed to her lower regions. "Oh wow…" she exhaled.

Still trembling, Giselle quickly turned and rushed herself off to the far back of the bar and called through the kitchen door. " _Capocuoco_ , get out here!"

"What is it, _mia rosa_?" a light Italian accent wafted back.

Flynn went rigid, the charm disappearing from his face immediately. _That voice…_!

The girl glanced excitedly back at Flynn. "There's someone here you really need to meet!"

"That doesn't narrow it down! I am a very popular fellow, you know!"

Shock overtook the thief. There was no mistaking it, that voice had to be him! All the clues finally caught up to him; the Honeycomb's name, the familiar design style, the unique food… He knew of only one man with this kind of special taste! His fingers clenched, his senses now on high alert. _You idiot! How could you not realize whose tavern you waltzed right into?!_

"Just come out here!"

"Oh, alright! Tianna! Watch the cherries!"

Giselle stepped aside as a tall man with a lean yet firm frame strode into view.

He wore a white double-breasted chef coat with long sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His black pants and leather boots were just as pristine as the rest of his attire, which was somehow spotless even after emerging from a busy kitchen. A towel hung over his left shoulder and a red neckerchief was expertly tied around his stand-up collar. His features put him in his mid-to-late twenties, with well-groomed blonde hair and a shaved goatee over his strong jaw. He looked every inch the master of the establishment.

"We've got quite a demand for citrus fruits today," he said to Giselle, rubbing his hands with his towel. "Now, what's all this about? Please tell me that Percival's performers have finally arri—!"

The man froze when he saw the thief sitting at the bar as if he couldn't believe who was sitting right in his own tavern. After a brief moment, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened enough to crush bricks. He swung his towel onto the counter with a loud _thwack_ and marched straight over to him with a serious stare.

" _Rider_."

The man in question slowly rose to his feet to meet the deadlock stare of the other man who was several inches taller than him.

" _Flint_." He responded evenly.

The music stopped abruptly as all eyes turned to the sudden commotion. A sudden hush had fallen over the tavern as the mood went from pleasantly vibrant to uncomfortably tense. The waitresses turned pale. Patrons forgot about their meals as all their attention went to the standoff, tentatively wondering if they should make an early exit. The Honeycomb had turned as still as granite.

The two men just stared each other down in complete silence.

A moment passed.

Then, not even a second later, their faces suddenly split into wide smiles before they broke into elated laughter.

Grinning like mad, Flynn spread his arms out wide as he advanced. "Norris! Come here, you old such and such!"

Norris clasped Flynn's arm and brought him in close for a quick, camaraderie hug; a bump of their shoulders and a solid pat on each other's backs.

"Cinnamon sugar on toast, how are you doing buddy? You old sly boots! So good to see you!"

"Oh, I'm doing fine these days, despite my best efforts!" Flynn laughed. "I've got this funny habit of breathing."

By now, the tension in the tavern from before had vanished as everyone returned to his or her own business and the musicians started playing another number.

"What's it been, four years?" Norris asked, still grinning. "I haven't seen you since both you and Lance had to skedaddle out of that mess in Albion!"

"Yep, how could I ever forget being chased by an angry housekeeper wearing enough makeup to cover a sea serpent's head, and the biggest Adam's Apple I've ever seen?" Flynn chuckled. "We lost him on that trawler across the Dembe river. My god, the _humidity_! But forget about me, look at you! Far more fit than the last time I saw you! Let me guess… jumping jacks?"

"Heh heh, close! I lost nearly forty pounds by swimming!" Norris proudly rapped a hand against his stomach. "And bread! I really cut back on the bread."

The man raised a hand and gestured around with a clear look of pride in his smile. "Flynn, allow me to welcome you to my fine establishment, the Honeycomb, where there's no flavor like home! That's our motto!"

"So, you finally got your own place after all? That's fantastic!" Flynn answered, looking around the place with a new appreciation. "And I swear I'm not just saying that for bar privileges."

Norris shook his head with a smile, already familiar with his old friend's witty remarks.

"You don't have to worry; you're always welcome here. Now come on! I know to recognize someone that's fresh off the boat, and you wouldn't have come in through an actual door unless you were really hungry. Let's see what I can fix up for you!"

At the memory of his friend's masterful cooking, Flynn's stomach woke up again and started telling him it wouldn't mind having something delicious to eat—no, not in the slightest.

Norris called over to several of the hostesses as he got Flynn settled in. "Ladies, this is an old friend of mine here for the festival. As my personal guest, he eats without charge whenever he visits here!"

Flynn did a double-take. "Whoa, what?"

Before he could say anything more, the eager waitresses started bombarding Norris with questions about their attractive new guest, with Giselle at the forefront. "You know him? No, of course you do. What's he like? Will he be staying close by? Where's his address?"

Norris looked at her, mildly stunned. "…Who are you and what have you done with Giselle?"

The woman blushed before giving the head chef a sheepish smile. Behind her, several of the other waitresses were still just as excited.

"Just look at the toned muscles on his arms!"

"I bet he works out a lot."

"Now that is what I call a man; he's exactly my type."

"I think he's every girl's type!"

Norris stared incredulously at the group that made up over half his staff. "Oh, for the love of soup, not you lot too! Just get back to our other guests! Hungry stomachs wait for no one!"

"Awww, do we have to? He's so cute!"

Norris' left eyebrow twitched. That tiny motion seemed to break the spell as the hostesses suddenly scurried back to their routine duties. The man sighed and turned back to Flynn with a flat look.

"Don't give me that look!" He placated. "All that female attention gets pretty strange after a while."

"Really?"

"Nope!"

"Ah, to be you." Norris drawled.

Flynn chuckled before going back to his prior question. "Anyway, about payment…?"

"Don't worry," Norris waved him off. "As I said, no charge for you."

The handsome rogue was still surprised by the act of generosity. Normally, Flynn wouldn't try to talk his way out of free stuff, let alone food, but Norris was one of the very few people that he considered a true friend. He even knew Flynn's 'other' name. They went way back, and he knew how much his old buddy had always wanted his own place to cook, just like his own dream for an island free from the reach of kings. It lifted his heart to see that Norris had achieved his dream, and he wasn't about to take advantage when his friend had slaved so hard for this amazing place.

"Norris, no, you don't have to do charity for me. I appreciate the thought, but I'll be happy to pay for your business. I'll even do tips!"

"Nonsense, you already have!" The chef firmly refuted. "Thanks to you, I was able to get the money to build my own restaurant in a fraction of the time. We've been through a lot together, and you've saved my bacon more than enough times. I'll especially never forget about that thing with the guy in the place, and I'll never forget it!"

He chuckled and patted the thief's shoulder. "You'll always be welcome here at the Honeycomb. It's free to you, Flynn. Always!"

It was a rare day on Earth when Flynn Rider was left speechless. He couldn't help it; Norris' act of generosity shook him. How could even his own silver tongue argue with that?

 _No matter the trials of life, you must never abandon generosity. The heart yearns to return in kind a good deed that means so much for them. Many are often surprised at how much another will gladly repay kindness and loyalty. Whether they be a friend or a stranger, care for others as much as you would yourself, and they will never leave you wanting. You will never be alone._

His idol's wisdom never failed to amaze him.

After a moment, he shook himself out of his reverie and shrugged in response. "Well, when you put it like that, I love breakfast when other people make it!"

"That's the spirit!" Norris smiled. "Anything special in mind?"

"How about another of those Fofana drinks and also…" Flynn nodded his head towards a nearby table where he had noticed a loving couple sharing a very familiar treat that made him salivate just from the memory of it.

"One plate of my jam paczki coming right up," Norris nodded in return. "And a Fofana to follow."

Flynn wasn't surprised when Norris pulled out a few ingredients from under the bar counter along with a bowl and cooking utensils. The man always liked cooking in plain sight before moving it to a kitchen oven, especially when he kept everything squeaky-clean. It also gave them a chance to catch up after so long.

"So you've really gone legit, huh?" Flynn asked while Norris cracked a few eggs, making sure no one could overhear. "Is _this_ what peace of mind looks like? Could have sworn it looked better in the brochures…"

"I certainly have," the chef chuckled. "People may forget what you say and forget what you did, but people will never forget how you make them feel. And good food goes a long way towards that! The world always looks much better…"

"… with a full stomach," Flynn finished, recognizing the line immediately.

"Alright," Norris rolled his eyes, "Guess I did learn something from all your damn quotes."

"I told you that there was something to be learned from them!" The thief playfully shot back. "They aren't make-believe, like chores."

Norris laughed as he added yeast and butter.

"Well, despite my best efforts, you actually made a believer out of me to enjoy a life made from what I'm good at. And with how people are always hungry, I realized that it didn't feel right for only a few to enjoy my food. Besides, a good meal can change a person's attitude, and in that moment, you can change their entire day."The man paused, giving a blissful sigh of complete contentment. "Getting this place was the best idea I've ever had. So yes, I don't need any less-than-legal means to make that happen. I'm out of that business."

"Then could you tell the three boys upstairs to stop eyeing me up? It's making me uncomfortable."

Norris paused, then made a discreet wave of his hand. A group of figures relaxed and settled back down in their seats. "… It's almost scary when you do that."

Flynn simply shrugged. His inner hawk had immediately noticed the three men with hidden weapons on the second floor, who had been watching him carefully since the apparent standoff. Their table was spotless with no sign of a recent meal, yet they made no move to make an order. In turn, the otherwise hospitable staff never approached them to offer service yet seemed to move around them with a rather comfortable familiarity. Those were only a few of the subtle signs that told him they were incognito security.

Norris may have gone legit, but some things didn't change.

Flynn's mind drifted to memories he hadn't thought about in a long while. The two of them had been through a lot together. While Flynn usually went solo these days, he hadn't always worked alone. Aside from the occasional one-time associate, there were only two people that he counted as his true-blue partners-in-crime. The first was his childhood friend, Lance Strongbow; a fellow orphan and a brother in all but blood. Although he was just as skilled in sleight of hand and pickpocketing as Flynn, the big guy was nowhere near the same level in stealth and discretion, even blowing their cover a number of times. But what Lance lacked in sense of tact, he more than made up for with sheer muscle and quick reflexes. He always kept the worst trouble off of Flynn's back when things got too hot for them. They were a classic mix of brains and brawn.

While they had a few differences in style and methods, they both had hearts of gold and were the closest thing each other had to family.

And then there was Norris Flint. Just like how Flynn ranked among the very best thieves in the business, he doubted anyone in the tavern knew that their chef was, in fact, one of the most successful smugglers and influence brokers alive. He was the son of a merchant lord who lost everything but managed to survive and even prosper by putting his business savvy into 'less-than-legitimate' affairs. In only a few short years, he built a vastly successful network that dealt with information, procurement, and favors. Norris had deep connections with eyes and ears everywhere; he knew all the players and all the angles, legal or otherwise. He was one of the very best at hearing things through the grapevine, knowing who to talk to, the right palms to grease and to get whatever they wanted. He was the dealer who knew what to say and always had something to trade. Anything a person wanted, he could provide.

As an admirer of the old 'Mister Mysterious Mastermind' gig, he employed a different kind of covert discretion than Flynn did. He used dead drops, proxies, and multiple middle-man contacts. He made sure his system was untraceable by applying several different cutouts between himself and the money and facilitated goods, not to mention roundabout and other convoluted methods of having everything gathered and distributed. To top it off, Flynn could never understand the web of accounts the man used for finances, how he managed paper trails and made his money invisible to prying eyes.

Norris Flint was highly capable but never did anything too high-profile or too dirty. He was determined to keep from ever getting in too deep, with less than five people in the criminal underworld that knew his real face. The money and connections he made through his dealings were solely as a means to an end, to ensure the successful civilian life that he always dreamed of as a master chef.

"So, what's the verdict?" Flynn teased as he leaned forward. "I'm curious what this 'normal' is all about."

"Peaceful, yet still invigorating," Norris answered, still mixing ingredients. "Work isn't work if you love it, and cooking is my lifeblood! And still quite profitable, of course. It's been a simple matter of using my talent for finding the right information to figure out everyone's tastes, then the rest is just following my instincts to make their taste buds sing with delight. I'm quite a favorite of the locals now."

"I see you haven't lost your touch," Flynn nodded. "No one else comes close?"

"Well, there's Monty," the chef shrugged as he added powdered sugar. "One of the friendliest people I've ever met and also quite popular with the people. He runs his own Sweet Shoppe not far from here and I have to admit that he really knows his sugary goods. But while we both have a penchant for desserts, we're hardly competitors. Monty's trade is focused solely on candy shopping whereas I manage a restaurant with full meals. We did clash a few times early on, but I got to talking with him one night with a bottle of fine wine. Turns out that we have quite a few common interests; we swapped stories, had some laughs and even shared a few treats. I've got quite an addiction to his bonbons now, and he can't get enough of my fruit pies! By morning, we were fast friends and now we share drinks every Friday night. And the cherry on top? Our little 'friendly competition' with one another multiplies business from the locals like you wouldn't believe!"

"Then congratulations, you're a bona fide celebrity!" Flynn chuckled.

"And here you are," Giselle appeared to their side with a drink in hand. "Another glass of Fofana, with ice."

"My thanks," Flynn smiled, causing the hostess to giggle as Norris handed her his mixing bowl to be finished in the kitchen. The thief returned his attention to the chef, gesturing to the new glass. "A celebrity with a lot of open doors, I might say. You even have fresh ice!"

"Delivered straight from the mountains of Arendelle, carved by one of their finest ice harvesters!" The chef proclaimed. "No one else knows how to keep their ice as fresh and frozen cold, even through shipping, as well as my supplier does."

"In fact…" Norris leaned his head in close to whisper. "I've got enough surplus ice to work another of my little experiments. My pies are the most famous dish of the Honeycomb, but I'm also working on a special batch of ice cream. It'll be the next big idea! Vanilla and chocolate are delightful, certainly, but I've had this idea for an entirely new flavor: strawberry. Just imagine it, Flynn! _Strawberry!_ A third flavor for ice cream everywhere!"

As a big fan of the dessert, Flynn's eyes doubled in size at the thought. "That… that would be incredible!"

"It'll still be a while, I've been trying to get the process right for the past six months. But I know I can make it work, and I've got plenty enough ingredients, especially the ice. I don't know how Mr. Bjorgman does it, but he always comes through on getting me the best ice for my desserts and drinks."

"You do always know just the right hand to shake."

"Don't I always?" Norris smiled. "One new friend can indeed open many doors. I may be out, but my little network of sparrows and gophers is still active for information as well as a nice little sideline in… procurement. Not only do I get quality ingredients for less, but from time to time, I'm still inclined to do a little bartering on the side."

"Being a local celebrity that has his own restaurant isn't enough?" Flynn asked wryly as he sipped his delicious drink.

"Oh sure, business is usually pretty good, but why not? I help a lot of the people around here get whatever they need, business or personal, for a pretty generous price. Helps my reputation, brings in a little extra income and customers, and there's no shortage of grateful people around that are happy to help out a friend in need. I've also made good friends with the city guards. I know almost every one of them on a first name basis, and it always pays off to be a favorite of the authorities. Best of all, it's perfectly legal."

Flynn nodded, knowing how 'independent civilian 'contractors' worked under a different jurisdiction when bringing side goods. Tariffs didn't apply as much and there were far fewer restrictions on what they can order and deliver. For example, royal guards and navy sailors could only order basic essentials through their own channels, such as toothbrushes and the like. Civilian contractors on the other hand, much like Norris and most of his network, usually offered a more robust selection of goods, services, and favors for the men. Whiskey and cigars, gentlemen's literature, custom boots, extra blankets, silk pillows, chess, and Fanorona board games, you name it.

And it was indeed legal, so long as you didn't order anything labeled as contraband.

"So, bottom line? Sales up, business is good and I'm quite happy. You'd be surprised how satisfying the smaller things in life can be. Sure you wouldn't consider honest work someday?"

Flynn looked perplexed. "I-I'm… I'm sorry, I don't understand. What do you do mean by work? Wait, am I pronouncing that word right? _Work_?"

Norris blinked. Then he snickered. "Right. Forgot who I was talking to."

Flynn dropped his feigned look of confusion as a genuine shiver crept up his spine at the thought, the serious implication of him being 'employed' in any manner was rather terrifying. Restrictions, limitations, parameters, all big nasty things that he abhorred. He wasn't much to abide by most rules anyway.

"You have no idea, Norris. I've already had that nightmare before, about actually having a… uh, you know…"

"You mean a jo—?"

" _Don't_ _ **say**_ _it_!" He frantically hissed.

The chef only laughed.

"Well, as I was saying, Corona is a kingdom that appreciates the skillful touch of the culinary arts more than anywhere else. There's no doubt about it, old friend, this is where I belong," Norris let out a long sigh of content before getting a cheeky smile. "But I guess I'm still a bit like you, Flynn. The difference is that I'm successful."

The thief didn't miss a beat. "Like at cards?"

Norris was suddenly thrown off. "Wha—I-I… I've gotten better!"

"Yeah, now you know that a Three doesn't beat an Ace!" Now Flynn was the one laughing, enjoying the spot of payback for teasing him about actual employment. "What was it you said during our first game? 'Read 'em and weep'. And then you did!"

"I'll beat you one of these days and sweet revenge will be mine," the other man groused. "I've even hired a professional player from Weselton for lessons. The only problem is that he ironically lost all his money at the local gambling ring about a month ago. Apparently, the entire place got cleaned out by… some hotshot… newcomer…"

Norris trailed off.

He slowly turned his eyes back to the thief.

Who was bearing an unrepentant smile.

"Yeah, I'll be here… _not_ holding my breath. Flynn Rider doesn't lose at cards. It's a rule of nature, mind you."

The chef could only roll his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he shrugged in resignation before changing the subject.

"Hey, why am I the only one reciting tales of success?" He playfully pointed an accusing finger. "You're always working to do something, Flynn. Even my own network can barely keep track of you until the next time you do something that makes the papers. You redefine the meaning of 'elusive', you old sly boots."

"Me, elusive?" Flynn laughed. "You've obviously never tried to catch a dancing girl after drinking too much Vorhaven willek juice! Anyway, I'm sure you've heard all about the party last month in Nasaltown?"

"Nasaltown? Ha! I need to remember that one! But first, you still have to tell me how you and Lance get out of that fiasco in Albion. The _impazzendo_ magistrate there had a crocodile – an actual crocodile! – as his idea for a guard dog. What happened after we split up? I couldn't make sense of what my contacts were trying to tell me."

Flynn chuckled as he leaned back in his seat. "Believe it or not, Lance remembered one of the times we got in trouble back at the orphanage. We had read about ice skating and got this fine idea of trying it out ourselves by attaching wheels to our boots. Caused quite a mess that day."

"Wait, are you saying you escaped by… skating?"

"Over those smooth tile floors? You'd be surprised just how amazingly effective it was at outrunning the guards!" The thief laughed at the memory. "They couldn't keep pace with us at all! Although it didn't work as well once we hit the dirt roads. As for what happened next, well, let's just say that it involved a beautiful merchant's daughter, a backward pirate and a soldier with a musical instrument fetish."

Norris stared at him blankly.

"And after all that," Flynn shifted uncomfortably. "Then it got _weird_."

...

"…I just had to ask, didn't I? I swear Rider, before I met you, the strangest thing that ever happened to me was when I once saw a swarm of bees chasing a yellow teddy-bear carrying a honeypot."

Now it was Flynn's turn to look confused. "Wait, what?"

"That was a real thing, I saw it once!"

The thief held up a placating hand. "Alright, alright. So anyway, speaking of odd trouble, what's the word on Lance? We lost touch with each other a while ago."

"Lance? Oh… he got arrested. But then-"

"WHAT?!" Flynn nearly leaped out of his seat, almost spilling his drink before honed instincts kept him from drawing too much attention. "My buddy's in jail? Where? What's the quickest route?"

The mental image of his oldest friend trapped behind bars seized his entire attention and lit a spark inside him. It was a mistake for them to have split up. Arendelle would wait, nothing else mattered. His inner hawk rose up with determination, ready to spread its wings; he would leave Corona today, his sharp mind already going through half a dozen escape plans and a list of the needed tools.

"Whoa whoa _ragazzo_ , easy!" Norris quickly put a firm hand on Flynn's shoulder. "I already got him out. Now do relax, your paczki dish isn't even ready yet. Good boy."

The thief went still. "You… he's alright? You got him out?"

"Please! You're not the only mastermind here, just like you're not the only friend that Lance has. I made a few arrangements, and he's been a free man for the last four months."

The weight left Flynn's shoulders quickly as it arrived. The tension sloughed off of him as if he settled into a warm, soothing bath. "I forgot how fast you work. How'd you manage it?"

"It's like I always say Flynn, it's not who you know but how 'well' you know them." Norris reminded. "You see, the warden had a son who was conscripted last year right off the streets into one of Strihaven's silver mines, nasty place, and wasn't allowed to leave. With all the pirate attacks in Alliance waters, King Willard was pushing his workers even harder than usual while keeping their budget funding down to a tight minimum. They could barely afford materials and their cheap equipment was falling apart under the increased demands. So, I reached out to the chief foreman and got him a boatload of top-quality tools and materials, along with putting him in touch with a good supplier for even more. All in exchange for letting one single miner go home to his family. Overjoyed to have his son back from that deathtrap, the warden was all too happy to expedite Lance's sentence as much as legally possible, and even a little further! He got released a week later for 'good behavior'."

Flynn couldn't help but give an awed smile. While he was a master silver tongue himself, Norris was an artist when it came to making quick friends and striking a bargain. "That is beyond impressive. I'll never understand how you know to do these things."

"It's what I do," Norris replied, holding up one of his glasses with faux drama. "I drink, and I know things."

Both men laughed.

"Anyway, Lance is no doubt laying low for now, but that won't last for too long with his impulse control."

"Well, thanks for getting him out." Flynn was indeed thankful, and it showed on his face.

"You can thank me by helping him to fix his table manners!" Norris was suddenly serious. "Until then, you can bet that he will still have to pay full price in my restaurant!"

The thief had almost forgotten how high Norris' standards were when it came to the art of culinary perfection, as well as your eating behavior. Then again, Lance was certainly a messy eater once he got hungry. He still remembered how the big guy preferred eating pork with his bare hands, like a ravenous beast tearing into a helpless gazelle.

" _H'ppy burf-tay!_ "

Norris jumped when a ball of white hair suddenly tumbled out of one of the bar cabinets. A closer look revealed that the ball was, in fact, a surprisingly short man that was less than four feet tall with a long white beard and an oddly round nose.

"Shorty?!" The chef was both shocked and dismayed by his presence. "How'd you get i— wait, what were you doing inside the cupboard?"

The man sat up, his head swaying with a loopy smile that showed several missing teeth. It didn't take a genius to see that the man was drunk.

"Whooooaaaaa...'s morn' lredy?"

"Shorty," Norris said in a resigned voice. "Did you sleep the night in there?"

The man in question promptly fell on his back again with a slurred chuckle. Then he belched loudly.

Norris reached into the open cabinet and pulled out several empty jar glasses, where he then let out a sigh of long-suffering. "And what happened to my store of honey mead?"

"I did n'sush 'hing! Ooo got n'thin 'n me! *Hic*!" The hiccup was enough to make the small man's entire body lurch. Then he pointed aimlessly at the ceiling. "…Heh, heh...flying coooo-*hic*-ooookies."

"I rest my case," Norris said simply. "Nalia! Little Shorty snuck in again!"

Flynn was holding a napkin to his face to keep from laughing too hard as a blonde waitress easily carried the small man away. "Friend of yours?"

"Hardly. Everyone calls him Shorty, but there's no way he was born with a name like that. Nobody knows his real name, even I can't find out. Anyway, I can only assume that's he's either always drunk or a complete _gavia_. He usually stays at the Snuggly Duckling but keeps popping up everywhere all over the kingdom and no one can tell what he's up to."

"I'm th' vil'ge crazy! Thaz m' joooob!" Shorty happily called from the other room.

The two of them went still at the mildly unsettling notion that he somehow managed to hear them from another room and over the noise of all the Honeycomb's patrons.

"Erm… so, what's this 'Snuggly Duckling'?"

"I'm actually glad you asked." Norris perked up again. "It's this old and rundown pub out alongside the path down in the woods. People say it used to be a nice place until the bandit leader called Ruthless Ruth and her gang ran everyone out and took the place for themselves. I hear that Ruth died about six years ago, but the Snuggly Duckling is still overrun by brutes and other ruffians down on their luck. It's now known as the place where you go if you've lost everything. They're more depressed and drunk than actively hostile, but I'd give them a wide berth all the same."

"Heh, no problem." Flynn shrugged. "Why would I ever want to go to a place like that?"

"With you, who knows?"

Their conversation was put on hold again when an excited Giselle emerged from the kitchen with a large dish of fresh pastries. "Here you are! A nice plate of our rum-soaked, ruby jam paczkis!"

Flynn's eyes went wide as he unconsciously licked his lips. He gently picked one up and breathed in through his nose; the heavenly aroma sent a shudder through him. It had been so long since he had one of these. Too long.

"Enjoy! Just be sure you don't… inhale it, too late." Norris sighed. "Wonderful. Now it's all over your face- _don't use your_ … sleeve."

"Sorry!" Flynn chuckled as he wiped the rest off with a napkin. "I've just been dreaming of tasting these again one day. You always make the best."

"My pleasure!" Norris laughed. "This jam is one of my finest batches yet. So well done, in fact, that it's actually quite flammable if you take a match to it."

"Jam with an explosive kick? Ha!" Flynn took another in one hand. "I tell you, buddy, I tried to curb my craving in this little shop in the western region of Vorhaven, but they fill them with prune jelly."

Giselle put a hand to her mouth as she glanced at Norris. The chef looked like he had been slapped. His face went from shock to horror to downright sour. Even as a former underground dealer, few things could upset Norris Flint as much as the thought of botched food and improper cooking.

"P-P-Prune jelly? In paczki?!" He slammed his fist against the counter. "Those mountain brutes! _Follia_! _A cosa sta arrivando questo mondo?!_ "

As Norris kept ranting, Flynn was snickering like crazy as he sank his teeth into another delicious pastry. His friend also only went full 'Italian' when he was either truly happy, or in this case, or extremely affronted.

Giselle, quite used to Norris' standards of culinary perfection, quickly calmed him down by changing the subject.

" _Capocuoco_ , Percival's crew were supposed to have arrived half an hour ago. Do you have any idea when they'll be here? I've been asked by two more people already about our annual events for the festival."

Norris had an unreadable look on his face, tapping his finger thoughtfully on the counter. "His ship was due last night, they're only half a day behind. It might be cutting it a little close, but my contact has always come through before. I'm sure it won't be long now."

"Well, if you need to look into it, I could take care of your friend." Giselle's hungry gaze turned to Flynn. "After all, a special guest needs to be well-cared for, especially one who could need help learning his way around. I'd be happy to show him the more exciting things in Corona. Maybe even show him where he can find a room for his stay, to see that he's… comfortable."

Even someone as drunk and absent-minded as Shorty would be able to see the subtle invitation Giselle was making, and Norris quickly interjected before Flynn could answer.

"I will take care of his accommodations myself, Giselle! Might I suggest you return to your duties?"

"As you wish." She smiled as she walked away, swinging her hips just slightly.

Norris looked as if he couldn't believe what was happening. "How? How do you do that, Flynn? Women are supposed to be complicated! I mean, Giselle there is studying to become a _governess_."

The thief's eyebrows went up in surprise.

"Exactly." Norris continued. "She's very well-educated and even taught herself to read before she first went to school. Giselle is usually more well-spoken than most nobles. I also know for a fact that she hates how her natural looks get more attention than the other girls, and as a woman of education, she doesn't want that as the only thing that others would care about. Not once have I ever seen her show more interest than professional courtesy with a customer, and now it's like she's an entirely different person. How do you do that just by walking in through a _door_?!"

"What's wrong with that?" Flynn shrugged. "If anything, women should leave _me_ alone! Being this good-looking gets very distracting!"

"…Damn it, you storybook adventurer." The other man deadpanned. "I can always count on you to give me a devastating headache."

"Hey, that was one time! And I told you to watch out for that branch."

"Never mind, weren't we talking about something important?"

"Of course," Flynn agreed solemnly. "The beauty of the female form is always important." He cast a glance at Giselle who had hardly taken her eyes off him. He always did have a thing for brunettes, and especially women with a proper sense of wits.

Norris followed his gaze. "Flirt if you want, but please don't chase after my staff."

"It will probably be the other way around!" Flynn laughed. "In which case, it would be their own choice, right? I could pay her a visit in the afternoon—"

"And will be there until morning, I'm sure."

"Hey, gotta prove the beds are soft enough for their skin, right? You should be more considerate of women, Norris, seriously."

Norris really sputtered, with spit flying and everything. Then he pulled himself together and let out a long sigh. "I give up. Alright, fine, but not while they're on the clock. You want private time, and I want to never know what 'happens' in your private time. _Win-win_."

The tavern door opened, and the bell rang to signal a new arrival. Norris automatically glanced over and smiled as he recognized the new guest. Then again, he probably knew almost everyone. "Ah, hello Cassandra! Beautiful morning we're having, isn't it?"

A young woman wearing a blue and white handmaiden dress gracefully approached the bar, giving Norris a small smile. "As much as it can be, I guess. Everyone's getting pretty wound up lately."

"I can imagine your father is driving everyone up the wall with the festival coming up."

"Much more than usual. It is the eighteenth anniversary after all." Cassandra sighed. "Which means I really need one of his favorite treats to cheer him up, for the sake of everyone's sanity. Is it ready?"

Norris already had a tasty-looking plate out on the counter before she finished her question. "Here you go, _piccina_! Cheese blintz with squeezed cherries on top, and a dusting of powdered sugar."

Cassandra smiled with relief. "Thanks, this always works perfectly when my dad has long days."

Norris couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he put a metal cloche over the dish for takeout. "Not even Ludvig's dishes can do the trick?"

"No. The royal chef doesn't even come close." Cassandra gave a tiny chuckle. "But you didn't hear that from me, there was no order for cheese blintz and I was never here."

"What dish? I would never dream of offending Ludvig's delicate sense of— _Merde_!" Norris had suddenly glanced at something from the corner of his eye and then his face became red with embarrassment before he hastily ran off. "Shorty, no! _That is not a toilet_!"

A startled Cassandra's eyebrows shot straight up as she watched the chef frantically grab a rather tiny man with a beard and then promptly disappeared through a door.

Flynn was left sitting at the counter casually eating another paczki, doing his very best to keep from laughing. He had no interest in drawing attention as he carefully studied the young woman standing four feet away from him. She was rather decently attractive with alabaster skin, full dark-pink lips, hazel eyes and finely groomed black hair with gray highlights. This 'handmaiden' was certainly elegant, poised and reservedly charming. Yet for all her ladylike manner, Flynn recognized the signs from Cassandra's stature just as he had with Norris' incognito security earlier. He recognized the grace that came from a trained body. Her breathing was exceedingly natural and fully composed. Her eyes were careful and attentive, the gaze of a vigilant watcher. Even her walk was perfectly efficient.

His sharp eyes took note of the familiar calluses between the thumb and index finger of her right hand that only came from the handle of a sword. Flynn recognized them because he had the same calluses himself. And when one of her boots had peeked out from under the hem of her dress, his hawk had also glimpsed a concealed knife. This young handmaiden was a trained fighter.

 _Ah, a woman of mystery._

Quite frankly, Flynn was impressed. There weren't many women around with the hard will to commit themselves to such extensive and unforgiving training or were even allowed to be trained at all. Women were often expected to keep to cooking, sewing, and all that other nonsense. Not that he ever cared for such bias. Seriously, did anyone think that Flynn Rider of all people cared for what society 'expected' you to be? With the hard life he once lived and then deciding to make his own fate, he never could stand prejudice.

And now here was a young woman not only willing to commit to such training but was trained well. Better still, she was disciplined in it. Very impressive, and very dangerous. Even so, the manner in which she did nothing to conceal her warrior's gait indicated a minimal amount of critical experience, as any serious fighter could spot her. Skill and training were one thing, but real experience was what taught you how to make the best use of it. Trained or not, only a fool would underestimate someone who had been playing the game far longer than you. In the real world, experienced outranked everything, and Flynn had amassed abundant experience across the lands through his numerous adventures, brushes with danger and bold exploits.

Regardless, Flynn knew he had no reason to worry. He had long since learned how to know when someone was after him or not. There was no danger, especially with one as well-informed as Norris Flint welcoming her as a friend.

When Cassandra soon turned her gauging eyes towards Flynn, he returned it with both a nod and charming wink. That hadn't been anything that she expected and was thrown slightly off-balance as her cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

The side-door suddenly flew open again as an exasperated Norris finally emerged.

"Wha's th' pr'blm?" Shorty's slurred voice called after him. "I le'cked it, it's m'ne!"

"That's not a thing! Quit licking all my stuff!"

The final word was spoken, Norris closed the door shut, blew out a resigned sigh and returned behind the counter to Cassandra. "Sorry about that, I'll work it out with him later. So then… Cassandra, would you also care for a few sandwiches to go?"

"That would be splendid, it's going to be a long day." Cassandra nodded thankfully as she handed him a few coins. "Which means I might be back in the evening."

"Anything special?" Norris inquired as he handed her a pair of sandwiches.

Cassandra thought for a moment before answering. "Maybe some omelet rice and banana bread. Oh, and some Pudding a la Mode!"

"I'll be sure to get everything ready by then." Norris chuckled. "I'll see you later then, and good luck today!"

After she hurried out the door with a delicious meal in hand, Flynn finally turned back to the chef. "So, who was that?"

"Cassandra, a handmaiden from the palace. She has a father in the royal guard."

Her family was part of the guard? That explained her training and the knife. Well, that wasn't important anymore as Flynn gave his friend a rather incredulous look.

"Okay, I shouldn't be surprised, but what did she mean about saying you're better than the royal chef?"

Norris couldn't help but stand a little straighter. "Well… I might have been offered position a while ago. But I turned them down."

"Wait, you turned down the job of the _palace cook_?"

"Don't get me wrong, Flynn. I was certainly flattered, and I take pride in knowing I can cook better than whomever a rich noble could hire. But I won't ever work exclusively for a noble or rich family, no matter how much they paid. Not when I could have a place all my own, to cook the way I want it and where I can share my food with everyone. The people love my food, and I won't leave them just to feed one giant house. Plus, my staff down here would then be out of work. And if that wasn't enough, I would be expected to adopt the proper 'attitude' and behavior for the royal palace, to do everything by their own conceived standards every day."

A look of horror swept over the thief's face. "Oh… oh lord. Gag. Yeah, buddy, you made the right decision. Otherwise, I'd have to come and break you out! I had enough of that Second Estate nonsense back in Weselton to scar me for a lifetime."

Norris winced in sympathy, remembering their shared dislike for the arrogance of the upper class. "Oh yeah, I've heard quite a bit of how bad they are over there…"

"No no, you don't get it!" Flynn was actually starting to look frazzled. "Everything we've seen, all we know about them? I was in the thick of it back there, right inside the belly of the beast! Oh sure, it turned out to be exciting in the end and I made off with a fortune but masquerading as one of them was still one of the worst ideas I've ever had! And yes, this is me we're talking about! I thought I knew how bad the upper class could be. But I was wrong, I was horribly wrong. It wasn't just those moron's idea of witty chatter, their overly-fancy behavior or even that arrogant elitist snob attitude! No, in the Duke's ballroom, I discovered my worst nightmare… _businessmen_!"

He dropped his head against the bar, clutching at his hair. "Never again man, never again!"

Norris blinked at his friend's bizarre behavior, even for him. "Businessmen?"

"Yes, noble businessmen" Flynn mumbled miserably. "They would want me to 'straighten up' and 'fly right'. To 'act my age' and 'respect authority'."

"Flynn. I run a restaurant and I manage a secret network that reaches everywhere. How bad could it be?"

Whatever response Norris expected, it certainly wasn't for the thief to abruptly grab him by the collar, pull him in eye-to-eye and speak so fast that his words blended together. "They-wanted-my-assistance-in-developing-a-synergetic-process-for-actualizing-potential-and-capitalizing-on-untapped-assets!"

The chef was left stunned even after Flynn released his coat. "I didn't understand a word of that!"

"Nobody can!"

He was plagued by nightmares for over a week after he escaped on the ship. Sometimes, when it was quiet, he could still hear the voices...

 _Mr. Rider! Let's expound on the results of these reports!_

 _Time to discuss our quarterly earnings!_

 _Are we exploring mint revenue streams?_

"Oh, sweet and sour chicken, that is terrifying!" Norris paled as the full implications dawned on him. "Sometimes I forget that I chose an extralegal line of work to _avoid_ that kind of bureaucracy!"

Flynn was unresponsive. Instead, he shivered from a nonexistent cold as he stared off into space as if he were in a trance. His vision was beginning to black out as alien words appeared in his mind, threatening to overtake him and drag him into the abyss from which none ever returned.

 _Corporate compliance!_

"Flynn?"

 _Six Sigma!_

"Flynn."

 _ **TPS reports!**_

"Rider!"

The thief was snapped back to planet Earth when a pastry was shoved into his mouth.

" _Grmmpfh_! Whraffh gh—*cough*— Gah, what was that fo…" Flynn stopped when reality caught up with him and he realized what had almost happened. He shook himself to clear his head before he visibly sagged in relief, as though he were shedding a heavy coat. "Whoa, whew… thanks, mate."

"You were thinking again. I had to save you."

…

…

… _Of all the…!_

The pair burst out laughing, startling some of the Honeycomb's staff and patrons, they laughed so hard they cried. The years had fallen away. This was the man Flynn was proud to have as a friend. Someone that shared his zest for life, had a good heart and would even go out of his way to get a friend out of prison. He could always be counted on to get what you needed; whether it was his delicious food, goods, information or just a comforting shoulder. Moments like this were just as wonderful as his adventures and made the most golden memories.

 _Making friends gives you a reason to be alive. It gives you more reason to stand up for what you believe in. Having friends and loved ones by your side, it's like having a family before you realize that you cannot live without them._

It was times like this that Flynn understood the deeper true wisdom of his idol about the true joys of living, and was reminded of why he had wanted to pursue such a wonderful life. To live with the mightiest heartbeat. Adventure, treasure and good friends. Now wasn't that the life?

As he and Norris poured new drinks and clinked their glasses together, Flynn began to wonder. This place was already turning out better than he had imagined. It was a beautiful and welcoming city with wonderful people, delicious food, cute girls and good friends. Perhaps he could stay in Corona for a little while longer after all?

 **~o~O~o~**

It was him. She was sure of it. The nose was off, but it was definitely him!

Cassandra peered through the Honeycomb window, observing the man as discreetly as she could. She could hardly believe who she had actually stumbled across this morning, it was like catching sight of Santa Claus landing on the roof. And yet there he was, just sitting there! Poor Norris, did he even know who he was serving drinks to? How much danger those people were in from that deceitful cutthroat?

Her instincts were already in full drive, her trained focus now assessing the situation from every angle. Could she take him? Probably. The man was drinking, he was unarmed, and she was a better fighter than half the men guarding the king. Her body quivered at the priceless opportunity. A young woman succeeding where the men failed, capturing the legendary outlaw would wash away all doubts. She would finally prove beyond question that she was worthy of a place among the royal guard. Maybe even a position of rank!

However…

Cassandra bit her lip and scowled at her dress. The blasted thing always restricted her movement and offered pitiful protection. And instead of a proper weapon, she could only carry a simple knife to be used in a pinch, and even then, she was told to conceal it. She always felt exposed without the reassuring weight of a sword at her waist, except that 'women didn't carry swords'. She had been called a harlot by the more unsavory individuals just for when she wore pants or all the accusations for "not carrying herself like a proper lady," and all that. She soundly ignored them, but such sentiments still hindered her position. Especially now when she needed it.

But more importantly, even if she brought the wanted criminal in, Cassandra knew her father would still be disappointed in her. Not just through his over-protective sense as a parent, but for tackling a dangerous challenge when her advantage was far from certain.

 _Duty before pride, Cassandra. That is the life our family chose. It's our job to protect the king and the people, to keep the kingdom safe however we can. The royal guard fights and protects because they love the kingdom more than themselves. That is the definition of duty, and whatever we want for ourselves will have to come second._

If she wanted to become a member of the guard, then first she had to act like one. Worthless vagrant or not, this man was infamous for being harder to corner than a pack of frightened squirrels on caffeine. She needed to be positive that he would be apprehended, and if there was even one mistake he'd slip away and disappear. This had to be perfect, and she wasn't going to ruin it for the sake of personal ambitions.

Her mind made up, Cassandra turned and ran for the palace as fast as she could. She had to warn her father, the Captain of the Royal Guard, to sound the alarm. Flynn Rider was in Corona!

Sadly, with time being of the essence, she needed both hands to lift the hem of her gown in order to run. And to do that, she was forced to throw away Norris' cheese blintz. By the sea and sky, she _hated_ dresses!

* * *

 **This took a little longer than first expected. But Norris Flint is my most prominent and most developed Original Character, and as first impressions are always important, introductions must be done properly. And thanks again to DarkDragonFires12, my dear friend and beta-reader!**

 **Flynn Rider has taken his first steps in Corona and has been welcomed warmly by its hospitable people and by an old friend. It is a time to relax, eat well and make merry as the Festival of the Lanterns draws near. But not all welcomes by Corona hospitality will be friendly, for there are those who intend to make his stay a permanent one.**

 **Thanks to all who have to come to see this, and an especial thanks to any who review, fave and follow! Those are what inspire me to keep going. As always, your comments, thoughts and constructive criticism are appreciated and welcomed. Til next time, and Happy New Year!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Disney franchise, nor the Tangled films nor the TV series. Everything original you will see, such as OCs, are mine.**


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